The Bargain Bin

by Niall Richard Curran
(Cork, Ireland)

Some day next week I’ll be in the bargain bin,
and you can laugh and smirk at my prose so thin.
He had nothing contributed or words to relate,
The sour depths of the Lee should be my sweet
dull fate.

I must sink below to the sorrowful depths,
to taste the salty dampen dew.
fate is my fashion to the ghastly wit,
Of which my words in brief remit.
And you must smite me for my lack of faith,
And my words which cannot prevent,
Condemnation to that bargain bin.

So I will dance my tune on the wall of Patrick's bridge,
discarding my clothes and skin.
Patrick himself will come to tempt obsession
for Christ and his exulted passion.
Still I must dive and swim and poetry must die
Because, of that bargain bin.

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