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This poem is taken from PN Review 179, Volume 34 Number 3, January - February 2008.

Three Poems Brigit Pegeen Kelly

Distraction of Fish and Flowers in the Kill

People fish the kills here. Black, the kills, with shade,
Moist with shade, and the graveyard odours, the graveyard hush,

The hush of weedy distracted flowers, grass flowers, bush flowers,
Flowers of savour and those of ill repute.

And beyond, there is always the Island beckoning, to destroy or save,
The lure of the island, though there is nothing on it

But fireweed and gravel, and between here and there the water
Is deep, the water is deep between.

Fireweed grows where things have burned. The day
Squats with its magnifying glass. The boy in blue shorts squats

On the stones burning ants with his glass, and fireweed, which is not
The colour of fire, grows in profusion. Fireweed is purple,

As in shrouds, as in to destroy or put an end to.
This we understand. This thing on our hands we would be free of,

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