the cyclops – now not one-eyed but zero-eyed –
squats akimbo above the portal of his cavity
fondling the fleeces of exiting sheep
feeling for human skin and proteinaceous limbs

of Ulysses a.k.a. ‘Nobody’ a.k.a. Edmund Burke
and his blinding crew of escapees
one of whom is James Barry (maybe Eurylochus,
a mutinous in-law and second-in-command)

the cyclops a.k.a. Polyphemus sports a black hole
like lenten ash above switched-off sockets,
any orbs therein fallen into disuse, lids closed
as if sewn-up. who is he? The British Empire?

he’s ginormous, a heavyweight in the left corner,
while the two Greco-Irish are foregrounded
with a ram’s head glaring out at the viewer, and
Ulysses-Burke motioning Eurylochus-Barry to

                                       shut it!
                                       the thing still hears
                                       the thing’s
                                       still dangerous



Niall McDevitt
A Bloomsday Post on Another Irish Ulysses

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