The Gold that is Worn by God
The star or crown that an angel
once drew in the snow
is either not shown or trimmed away :
this lack of desire for snow
as what winter should be
I place around my wrist for safe keeping.
A skintight coat of mail.
And since it is said one does not age
in the time spent regarding the Host
will these false rains
of a pilgrim season
become voices again
in differing fields,
pressed against the back
of a god-coloured valley,
like a bed of white bronze
looking out through the rent
in a strawberry?
from Medbh McGuckian's My Love Has Fared Inland (2010)
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