Fishermen at Ballyshannon br Netted an infant last night br Along with the salmon. br An illegitimate spawning, br br A small one thrown back br To the waters. But I'm sure br As she stood in the shallows br Ducking him tenderly br br Till the frozen knobs of her wrists br Were dead as the gravel, br He was a minnow with hooks br Tearing her open. br br She waded in under br The sign of the cross. br He was hauled in with the fish. br Now limbo will be br br A cold glitter of souls br Through some far briny zone. br Even Christ's palms, unhealed, br Smart and cannot fish there.