TOWING AN ICEBERG TO BELFAST Poem by Paul Perry

for Rita Duffy
On the tip of her tongue

She's . . .

Don't think of melting

Pools along the way
A river

Think swimmers

Shipbuilding

On the long finger

She's . . .

Don't say it

Stop making sense

She's . . .

Towing an iceberg to Belfast

By a horse and cart

In wheelbarrows

A berg
A mountain
A mountain of ice

Read:

All poetry is performance
All poetry is L=A=N=G=U=A=G=E

Not the iceberg
An iceberg

Blue and . . .

By dreams
With dreams
In dreams
Amen

She's . . .

Towing an iceberg to Belfast

And gladly

To return

Return the scene of the crime
To its . . .

She's . . .

Towing an iceberg to Belfast

On the back
Of an old Morris Minor

An exploded artefact of sorts
From the Falls

We'll all be there
When she's coming 'round the mountain
Coming round
The mountain of ice
The ice berg
We'll all be there

Takes time
And money
Poets with money
Pleased to meet you

The latest craze
It's the thing to do
It's what we wanted
But never knew

It's like how come
We never thought
Of this before
It's real and imaginary

It's nothing like you
Thought it would be
It's better than sliced fucking pan
Or meals on wheels for that matter

It's not a trick
It's no one starving themselves
For entertainment
David Blaine meet Bobby Sands

Good night
It's God honest
Let's have it now
Straight and simple

And what of the ship
What ship
Ghost ship
Don't say its name

Swallowed by a bottle
Why not
Why not
A blue bottle
Buzz
And floating the waves

With a message
For everyone

Arrival time
Forever and some

Museum of ice
Of found bodies
Returned to their resting place

Thirty years?
Agreed

Here she comes
Thank the . . .

With the arrival of the iceberg
It is agreed
All poems are to be decommissioned

At last
The city
Exhales an icy breath