Mise Aisling By Anne Casey After Eavan Boland’s ‘Mise Éire’ I lost my tonguelong ago in exile,refound it in a ghost childcalling for her mother. Elizabeth O’Brien casting offto the deep: Bíonn súil le muirach ní bhíonn súil le tír(hope in the sea,no hope in the land)as she clutchesher grizzling Eliza,slipping away. I am the … Continue reading →