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This poem is taken from PN Review 84, Volume 18 Number 4, March - April 1992.

At the Glass Factory in Cavan Town Eavan Boland


Today it is a swan:
         The guide tells us
these are in demand.
         The glass is made

of red lead and potash
         and the smashed bits
of crystal sinews
         and decanter stoppers

crated over there -
         she points - and shattered
on the stone wheel
         rimmed with emery.

Aromas of stone and
         fire. Deranged singing
from the grindstone,
...


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