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Updated: Mar 19, 2022

Mixed by an alchemist,

with all the prized magic

of exotic origins:

eggshells and the shells

of umbilical fish.

Their own origins –

his the lanes of Limerick,

hers Scunthorpe’s steely breath –

have brought them to this:

this place,

this date.

And what they hold,

fragile and precious ,

is the making of a marriage

come of age

with years of infusing myths,

inventing and reinventing

the etching in of imperfections –

a dizzying, crazy-making dance

between pilfering and piracy

and the bounty of spice and silken threads.

But now, washed by salty sea

they stand, with sand beneath their feet

and sky above

and find a place,

unglazed, unspoilt, untouched.

Beyond the shimmer of cowry shell

and shame of dubious trades,

there is, and always was,

an honest clay-like love.

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