Cxci From 'yrland Regained' Central Cantos (2020) Poem by Kevin Kiely

 
CXCI

—and Ó Rathaille cursed them (1703)

hundred years before they hung, quartered
Emmet (aged 20)TCD student revolutionary
sweet blood of youth, Emmet's executioner holds the head up
warning James Street
unruly populous

& for this alone ‘Regained'

O London green murders

‘a wave of criminal lust rose and possesses England,
there is a reign of terror, under a set of indecent bullies
like Bottomley of John Bull, and the other bottom-dog
members of the House of Commons […] Tuatha De
Danaan! Be with me. Be with me.'
Lawrence (D. H.)Kangaroo

(yea, Lawrence Danaans ancient name for Grecians)

thou shalt not kill us England, Emmet gives the hangman
a lesson on how to tie a knot, converses with
presiding clerics before mounting the scaffold
shall never kill us, centuries of chances

& they swing Kevin Barry (aged 18)UCD student a hundred years
beyond
Barry takes a few with him until his gun jams

& Dublin will wipe the streets in Brit anaemic blood
One Nine One Six—week's warm up for
War of Independence

Barry's sister ‘dies' too, lives on afflicted
he'd braved it, their last meeting about Shaw's theatre play
they'd seen the character Dick Dudgeon
who was spared the drop

‘Twin Gun' Collins wants to spring Barry
& Peadar Clancy, Dick McKee & Conor Clune
tortured shot ‘trying to escape' from Dublin Castle

Collins hits the Cairo Gang Intelligence Unit
Toff Brits shot in one morning, Collins lowers his Guinness breakfast
‘my conscience is clear
[…] I pay them back in their own coin'

Gen. Tom Barry IRA Kilmichael ambush
thus, Henry Joy (McCracken)co-founder of
United Irishmen has a Hit Squad

defiance quietens London
‘in their own coin'

Africa South, your destiny slugs it to them who swings so many

the war dogs snarl in suits de Klerk, Vorster, Botha

swing Solomon Mahlangu (22)in Pretoria
crooked evidence on the ANC volunteer, choked
on their twisted rope breaks his neck for freedom
slashes Africaans blood grip

& Seán de Brún The Oak, Derry re-aligns three boxed darts
tilts the Bulmers pint-glass—
‘body bags for Brits […]'
Collins ‘on little sleep'

back-bar Wynns yawns on a binge, Stout bottles
American handguns, chambers studded in
bullets, cigarettes alight in the dark, tells his Squad

Dick McKee & Mick McDonnell
lads, always two guns […] head shots
[...] shakes his head before he drinks

(‘The Collins-Squad' increases beyond 20 in 1920)

& hubris Gen. Collins ricochet
to the head, Béal na mBláth
late Summer

"inside job" you better believe it, "inside job"
ricochet from grassy knoll

—does this sound like a bunch of coincidences?

aged 31 ‘mouth of flowers' kisses beán fíonn sí

mouth of blossoms, mouth of green
‘Regained'