New Moon tonight, Dotetto,
drowsy flowers offering scent
to badgers, prowling cats,
and dark-wandering women.
I am here again, Dotetto,
steeped in the black,
waving invisible fingers
before my nose. So often here
in this field of questions,
the stone calling your name
to the winds of three millenia:
Dotetto, son of Maglani.
And does it matter now
if your father ruffled your hair
or hunkered down to meet
your shining eyes?
Michelle Dennehy
Michelle Dennehy read English at Oxford University, and holds a Masters degree in Novel Writing from Manchester Metropolitan University. Her poetry has featured in journals
including The Honest Ulsterman, Bangor Literary Journal, Abridged, The Amphibian, The Cormorant, Free the Verse and Drawn to the Light Press. Her poems have also been published in anthologies from Dedalus Press and CAP Arts. She lives in the Sperrin mountains with her husband and three children.
