Inverted photo of table lamp
https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/51607/casualty-56d22f7512b97
“But my tentative art
His turned back watches too:
He was blown to bits
Out drinking in a curfew
Others obeyed, three nights
After they shot dead
The thirteen men in Derry.
PARAS THIRTEEN, the walls said,
BOGSIDE NIL. That Wednesday
Everyone held
His breath and trembled. “
How my heart sings 