The Lunar Spread Poem by Nuala Ní Chonchúir
The Lunar Spread
On Half Moon Street
we eat Tunisian orange cake,
under a painting of a melon
that spills seeds like love.
Over Notre Dame
the moon is a plate,
tossed by a Greek waiter
from rue Hachette.
Clear of Galway's rooftops
the full moon
- bald as a skull -
crowns the night.
When she is van Gogh yellow
and mooning above,
we close the shutters
to safely sleep.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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8/28/2026 9:13:43 PM # rel_20260827T145718Z_a0f1bd3
WOW! Marvellous poem. That poem made me one of men who is in the poem.