Ox-eyed at her foxlike
Her flight-tossed hair
Was hawk’s eye or bauxite and was like
A honeysuckle jaundice-budded hugging a citadel of exhausting height.
Above a Dublin flooded, struggling to stay above
History’s weight, unphrased love’s doveshape hovers.
Creation is never phased but the man is brittle as a manifestation;
What man can a kingdom have who cannot manage a wingspan’s acre.
I feel swamped, mired in sucking agar
Laden with ducats and chainmail.
Strange male
A phantom to be blessed away
A wick a wimp wind would whip away, best away
From that appraised best; her raised crest the day’s best.
Alchemisland 
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