Inniskeen Road: November Morning
by Heather Humphreys
The pol corrs go by in twos and threes
There’s a presscall in Paddy Kavanagh’s barn this-morn,
And there’s the half-talk code of mysteries
And the wink-and-elbow language of deceit.
Half-past eight and there is not a spot
Upon a mile of road, no shadow thrown
That might turn out a man or woman, not
A Tanaiste or justice minister tapping secrecies of state
I have what every politician hates in spite
Of all the solemn talk of contemplation.
Oh, Leo Varadkar knew the plight
Of being king and government and nation.
A road, a mile of kingdom, I am king
Of banks and cops and every blooming thing.