Because of the night,
the moon resting on the Liffey`s rim
and these moments
flowered to perfection,
I believe in miracles.
Because of the sound of rain
on hardworn Dublin cobbles,
this knife edge of light
across an empty room
and a subtle ache of footsteps
haunting O`Neill`s,
I believe in loss.
Because you are
almost a need
and what we accept for love
is always flawed,
I will believe in
whatever you can give.
You bastard.
