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      April 7, 2023Their Share of the DarkS.C. Flynn

      Grand Canal Dock, Dublin

      That hour of the night when sick people fall
      forever from the high ledges of their lives
      and the city is deep in a dream it will not share.
      The moon clasps its head in cloudy blue hands,
      reflected in the canal but shivering
      among the cold, uncaring ripples.
      The echoes of your footsteps flee like bats
      as you walk into Grand Canal Square
      lit by red poles, the only lighthouses needed
      since the boats and dock workers have gone.
      Everything has been killed by the silence
      except the wind’s bitter monologue
      blowing the long black flutes of the streets
      that seep past the old leper hospital
      and on to the crossroads of Misery Hill
      where the dead bodies of thieves used to hang,
      arguing over their share of the dark.

      from #79 - Irish Poets

      S.C. Flynn

      “I was born in Australia of Irish origin and have now lived in Ireland for seven years. A large part of my poetic project concerns exploring the old country and discovering what my family connection to Ireland means today.”