The last time I was there
It rained all day in Dublin,
and nothing soft about it.
I scurried along Baggot St
dodging sodden umbrellas,
and as I turned into the entrance way of
64a Baggot St,
there she was, her hand outstretched,
an accidental holy water stoop.
I smiled my flesh and blood smile
At the bronze woman,
And tucked my fingers around hers
dipping into the water and gripping the metal
as a touchstone
a code
a meeting
a pledge
baptism
again
anew.
Baggot St Suite: Welcome
Mercy Heritage
