This poem is taken from PN Review 84, Volume 18 Number 4, March - April 1992.
At the Glass Factory in Cavan Town
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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