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The Shankill Road

Spring 2014 - Vol. 56, No. 2


This poem appears in the Spring 2014 issue of Modern Age. To subscribe now, go here.

Let me tell you about a bullet
And a body.

Sunday last,
I heard Mass bells
From where I stood
Near tenements;

And broken glass
Like mussel shells
Crunched under foot.
A mural’s dissent,

Showing men in masks,
Coated a wall
Painted like blood—
And blood it meant.