Brow Soothe Servant Poem by Michael Ó Domhnaill

She once served the broth

and it soon coated my every appendage.

The broth contains caresses

and rocks transfigured to mountains by moss.


Moss intensified my vision of her…

She lost depth in the hole made mute

by the continuous echo of one drop

of pure smooth lucid liquid


from my eye:

That tear only dreamed of after 20 day bacchanals


I signed the letter:


In absolute slavery

to the memory of your subterranean irradiated white river

Your dry eye and lucid internal eruption pressing me

It always presses and bleeds

blue early morning light

This imprint of sensation

will remain

The redemption of every recurring instant

and every midnight gasp will signal your presence.


This browfire I mold at will

does submit as immaculately as your memory.