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Poem

It's New Year, 1979, at Funderland in the RDS in Dublin. 
In the cold calculation of the January air, a young girl tries to talk 

Poem

I like to stay up
and listen
when big people talking
jumbie stories

I does feel
so tingly and excited
inside me

Poem

All you see is outside me: my painted smile,
the rosy-posy shell, the fluttery eyes.
A butter-won’t-melt-in-my-mouth-type me

Poem

The space is a friend.
I tell it what hurts.

I tell it why I'm not good.
The space is a friend.
I tell it the bother I'm in.
It won't let me tell lies.

Poem

A plant called love
A plant called hate

I grew them both 
in my garden.
The plant called love was hard work.

Poem

Behind you
Windrush child
palm trees wave goodbye

above you
Windrush child
seabirds asking why

around you
Windrush child
blue water rolling by