Paseo de los Refugiados Celtas

by Declan Geraghty

Hands calloused
strained
on our knees
we are Celtic refugees
our country long dead
dear citizens of Eire
you matter
we give this complimentary tent with all sincerity
the rain
is coming
hurricane Varadkar
on the horizon
our tents blow
tents we imagine as palaces
my dog a great steed
like Don Quixote de la Mancha
our imagination keeps us from the clutches of insanity
blocking out the shame we feel
shame that wasn’t ours to begin with
the water rises
the tent flails
disappearing
with the sea
we drag ourselves up
to a roofless sky
affordable housing now we shout
hands raised
from goose pimpled arms
our heads bobble in the cold wind
hair sandy blonde
skin pale
eyes blue
capitalism's not working
its intentions obscene
our heads bob
hair sandy blonde
skin pale
north western European
we are Celtic Refugees.