We took to a tent family of gypsies
shadows in the forest, kept from view.
We escaped the sunrise, the strangers,
the shotguns, the ship’s crew.
We planned to stow on the boat,
escape before consumed by dust.
We can’t reflect upon the danger.
Belfast was never kind to us.
We climbed our way to the main deck
past empty rooms, shuttered and dank.
We made our way to the new land:
emptied arteries and drank.