Belfast on Weather Reports, by Antony Owen

I was eight years old when I first truly saw Ireland
Michael Fish stuck sunshine over Belfast and it fell off
They got the weather wrong that week it rained there.

I was eight years old when I first truly saw England,
Humans smeared a dirty protest over prison walls
Rib-cages and iron bars served the same purpose.

I was eight years old when I first felt England invade me,
Bobby Sands bled from a mural on a once ordinary house,
Men who never went to Ireland clinked tankards in glee.

I was twenty-one years old when I first felt Ireland,
A horse with a severed rope chewed roses on Dundrum road
Nobody was bothered, it was bothering nobody.

I was twenty-one when I first felt England in Dublin
A stag night from London turned Garda blue and ugly
It was the end of the troubles yet those lads invaded me.

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