These Fitful Hours
Oisín Breen
The bow is loosed.
And fragments of time,
Instantiated, leave pockets
Of air to stave off death.
And, as we feed on the blood
Of our ancestors, to make sense
Of the future, we come to know
Even the nettles will burst
Into chalices of human hair
As life swallows life, as it must.
*
A poet, part-time academic in narratological complexity, and financial journalist, Dublin born Oisín Breen's widely reviewed debut collection, ‘Flowers, all sorts in blossom, figs, berries, and fruits, forgotten’ was released Mar. 2020.
Breen has been published in a number of journals, including About Place, the Blue Nib, Books Ireland, the Seattle Star, Modern Literature, La Piccioletta Barca, the Bosphorus Review of Books, the Kleksograph, In Parentheses, the Madrigal, and Dreich.
*