Poteen Evening

Late me into the night
because lately I’ve been feeling
that end gap of the first face isn’t really here
anymore. Late me into the night

and I won’t forget the sins or the sways
against the carpet. I won’t forgive the way you held
the child against the beaten potato sack
the fever had got her and the fever had got her.

Into the night and I am late already
with a jug of heady promise for the local policeman
who can stop the madness in the head if he has the coins
to prove it.

I am providing for the family, yes the night is late
and yes the babies are crying and no the hills aren’t green
but the moon shines and I have to work with its drippings.