I Did Not Know You, Moniack Mhor

Marion McCready

but you have always been there
in one guise or another.
I trace the range of Strathfarrar     with my finger,
I draw the line of it in the air.There is no sea, no sea here,
no Juno, Jupiter or Saturn
(the ships of my childhood).At Moniack Mhor I lie with the bees,
their still bodies floating above me.
A horse rider clips in the lower valley,     curlews cry in my ear.Hills fall behind hills,
behind hills. Moniack Mhor
is forever opening—
a gift of dry grass, crab clouds,
the green nest of furze slowly breaking apart.Nightly the yellow almond buds     creep closer,
until I can taste them in the dark air.

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Marion McCready lives in Argyll, Scotland. She is the author of two collections of poetry, Tree Language (Eyewear Publishing, 2014) and Madame Ecosse (Eyewear Publishing, 2017).

Poetry Ireland Review

Issue 124


Eavan Boland

Assistant Editor
Paul Lenehan

Poetry Ireland Review is a highly-regarded journal of poetry. Published three times a year, the Review includes the work of both emerging and established Irish and international poets, essayists, critics and visual artists. 

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