Stranmillis (translation)

From Cuaderno de Belfast - Dublín

Of late my pace is slow in staircases
in departure platforms at train stations
in the vacuum of the window panes
in waiting rooms
I enter every chamber
with a name
with a lip
with this poem
late and slow

Of late my past slips away
my veins turn inside out
my papers write themselves
my window sills crumble

I tread onto the stair landings
with a straw-stuffed face
with a split lip
with this pavement feeling