SEVENTEEN MINUTES AT NEWGRANGE, IRELAND
Lean stems below bush, bloom her stark lily
lay screamingly hold, keen-start unconcealed,
seem bold yet my crave, ever she thrill me;
astray goddess pray, burn sunny rare field.
Seams cotton trace weaves, fire wildly threads,
clear is so gauzy, skin lightly as breeze,
mean sun’s too succinct, squall downy a bed;
sheer legs astir longing, blind wispy they please.
Sky time forward blaze, starkly exposure,
where essence feint shock, roam womanly dare
lie rear and high-pure, plunging composure;
swear skyline her need, awakens thin bare.
Shaft sunlight shines bright, fresh dawning light lies;
cry womb-ample lift, sigh-blue fills the air;
craft cavern sunlight, light-fair to the eyes;
die closely soothe hole, so comely her care.
Copyright © Dan Murphy. White Whale Review, issue 1.1