Burial ground in Bellurgan (dundalk Lwr By; Ballyboys Par.)

Mutton and berries on half an acre, then dune grass and a long flat ridge where the field bends. I heard a woman say the Danes fell there in a single night, but she smiled as if she doubted her own tongue. I walked the ridge at dawn and found shallow pits, not graves, cut by water and abandoned. The story needs a victim, a date and a dead man; the field offers only rain, sand and the shape of a line. I prefer the field. It does not want to be believed, only watched.