compared to the unexciting suburbs of Belfast that ‘no gale-force wind disturbs.’ The landscape in Donegal is awe-inspiring: ‘the nearby hills were a deeper green/ than anywhere in the world’. While the sea becomes the object of the speaker’s surreal nightmare: ‘spilling into the skull, marbling the stones/ that spine the very harbour wall’. The vivid after-image of place seems to have inspired both awe and terror in the speaker.
A similar scenario plays out in ‘Rathlin’. The poem follows the speaker’s journey by motor boat to the island, and then back again towards the Antrim coast. Perhaps it is the sound of the seabirds he can hear as he approaches that makes him think of the terrible screams of the victims of the massacre there in 1575. The speaker’s proximity to the place leads him to contemplate both the suffering of Somhairle Buí listening on the mainland, but also of the senseless brutality of these killings that has been perpetrated through the centuries and is still with us in the form of sectarian violence.
In ‘Antarctica’ the bleak snowscape serves as a backdrop to incredible, and almost unbelievable heroism; whereas ‘Kinsale’ becomes a microcosm of Ireland generally as it emerges from the darkness of a grim history into a brighter future. ‘The Chinese Restaurant in Portrush’ similarly becomes a world in miniature. Northern Ireland is literally seen through the eyes of a new multiculturalism. The future lies open to tremendous possibility; hopefully the ‘old wolfhound’ of Ireland’s tumultuous past continues to doze ‘in the sun’. The mushrooms in ‘A Disused Shed in Co. Wexford’ also represent a broader truth; the victims of sectarian violence between Catholic and Protestants, those who have been neglected and abandoned by history, the innocent