You bastard, you robbed me,
left me only my pride intact -
more than I can say for those gone
and buried in their own.
You’ve been a curse
crept up on us.
Those who warned you were carrying a smoking gun,
I heard them leprosized.
May you die softly,
May you be found in the patina of dreams
made sour in shards of detritus.
At least you’ve given birth
to whatever festered
Let’s do Redemption.
[first edited draft Paul O’Mahony 31.12.2009]