See that y'never doubt me.
I have things to do this morning--
I can't confess them, and even if I wanted to,
they have burned the churches down in Belfast and in Derry.
Here is a kiss, love.
Do you need a promise, to know that I am true?
Bodies are fragile things,
and that is why I touch yours so tenderly,
as if you might be torn away from me in an instant.
You might, love.
There are still snakes everywhere, no matter the fairy stories.
In her palace sits a queen, and she has everything.
Still, her fingers are never satisfied unless they make a rope
to fit my sweet white throat.
I am a banshee, love,
and so I must scream. For you though, for now, I whisper.
God made everything in seven days--
that's what a good Catholic girl can do.
I have inscribed little crosses on the pipes and in the powder.
Remember me, if I should fail.
I have cut a lock of my red hair where your lips have been,
and nested it in a silver locket for you to keep.
Here is a lily, love.
A sticky for the Easter rising.
I am not much, love, but I'm yours, no matter what happens today.
I am just red hair and some spit for the Union Jack;
a prayer for Mary and the thing that I must do.