Army

The duck patrol is waddling down
the odd-number side of Raglan Street,
The bass-ackwards private at the rear
trying not to think of a third eye
Being drilled in the back of his head.

Fifty-five. They stop.
The head Peers round,
then leaps the gap of Balaclava Street.
He waves the body over One by one.

Forty-nine. Cape Street. A gable wall.
Garnet Street. A gable wall.
Frere Street. Forty-seven.
Forty-five-and-a-half. Milan Street.
A grocer's shop. They stop.
They check their guns.
Thirteen. Milton Street. An iron lamp-post.

Number one. Ormond Street.
Two ducks in front of a duck
and two ducks Behind a duck,
how many ducks? Five? No. Three.
This is not the end.




Ciarán Carson