This Day in Irish History

Blood on the snow;

Blood on his hands;

Grey matter on his face;

His face gone pale.

Five shell casings.

He picked them up;

Put them in his pocket;

Telling himself he didn’t know why;

He knew it was all a lie.

In a jewelry box the casings were kept;

He took them out from time to time;

He told himself he’d make them into a necklace one day

But never did.

He wasn’t one to wear a necklace.

All the same, he wore them around his neck.

For the rest of his life.