There is a lane near the building where I presently live

I call it Finch Lane

(I don’t know its “real” name)
because of the waves of small, colourful birds

that flicker through the hedge row.

Lots of my poems start there.

Close to this lane is a pig farm

you can hear the pigs scream all day
tortured until the day of their death

families walk their dogs there
children splash in puddles and laugh
ride their bikes for the first time
and the screams from over the wall
do nothing to damage the day’s enjoyment

or the night’s well-earned sleep

I run home to write down my poems
on Primo Levi’s suicide
while the ideas are fresh,
tuning out from the torture nearby
as I disengage from genocides on TV.

Jamie Lynch is a Dublin film-maker and writer. He lives in England and maintains a cautious belief in the potential of words.