Niall McDevitt

A Night in with Roget

Caesarism, Kaiserism, Czarism…

these seem otherworldly to me
in my bird-box, consulting Roget,
as a zero-drop in temperature
hits the nerve-system of millions.
(Even my lioness turns frigid).
There’s no adjusting it, no controlling
this zenith to nadir blood.

Melancholia, the blues, blue devils…

lepers sign the visitor-book,
Son of Man eyes, blue conflagrations,
winters and summers spinning.
There’s no cure but work, love,
new jackets, false teeth, meetings,
cheap wine.
                 Where do we begin?
This blue-on-blue is impossible.

Genesis, Origin, Provenance…

white flakes are falling.

Creator, Preserver, Demiurge…

how do we 'out-Herod Herod'?