Poetry > Individual Poems
(Broadcast of GAA match from the Polo Grounds, New York)
It might be a vow they've taken
this the Grand Silence:
the tonsured line of bowed heads
drawn to the quiet darkness
of this bachelor place: Jack Ahearn
amiable as if cronies dropped by
these men with sons, eager for the match
that tonight will bridge an ocean.
The Pilot eye a green bubble
balancing shrills and whistles.
"Atmospherics" Jack says, taking the cup
of water to spill on the curved spike
that takes wire into the ground.
"Ah you have it there," my father says
a recognisable Bail ó Dhia oraibh
go léir breaking the scree of static.
I want to set the dial spinning
through fjords and icefloes
continents and oceans, from rainforest
to parched desert, to hear as it trips:
Hilversum, Rome, Vienna
the dissonance between places.
To nose to the lair of language, nuzzle
its warm ferment, feel infinity up close.
Tonight the world's a small lit dial
a violin straining for the most unreachable note
an eye that is a green stillness.
Bail ó Dhia oraibh go léir: a salutation like 'God bless'. Literally, prosperity
from God be with you all. Specifically associated with Michael O'Hehir, who
started his match commentaries thus.