A Kind of Forgery

I take your verse,
slit it with my pen
to see what’s hidden
in its deep inside,
then I flip it over,
to winnow out
the secrets that
cower underneath.

Your thoughts
I transmogrify,
stripping them back
to a primitive form,
then I cloak them
in another lexicon,
hanging a new flesh
on older bones.

Each phrase matters
if not each word.

Falsaíocht

Falsaíocht

Tógaim do dhán,
scoiltim le mo pheann é,
chun an méid
atá ceilte
a thochailt amach,
iompaím bun os cionn é
chun breathnú ar a bhfuil
i bhfolach faoina bhun.

Claochlaím
do smaointe,
tá siad anois
nochta, bunúsaithe,
ceilim faoi
fhoclóir nua iad,
craiceann úr ar
sheanchnámha.

Tá gach frása trom
mura bhfuil gach focal.