They are both old
Boireann and her

She wants to remain in the car


Regarding the other
Through the smear of a window

The intrusion of a wing mirror mars
A romance of meddled limestone

A partial view
Yet she is content

Because she sees

Even when these days
Rooks overhead look crimson

One colour among several is lost

And edges soften

I am younger
Not as young as clouds blowing off the Atlantic
Older than wild rose or bloody cranesbill
Growing in the clints and grikes
Of Boireann otherwise Boirinn
This Burren great rock frac-
Like her calcium-leached spine

Osteoporosis of the karst

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