The streets are almost empty tonight
as they seem to be most nights now
I couldn’t face it
That room a mist
With you two its axel
My friends your cogs
My hand shakes and quivers a bit
At times of importance, times of joviality.
My face burns like the ring of a hob,
My hands slide like melting plastic.
The city’s sprawl enthrals my mind
A cloak or shawl of diamond light,
The jewels flickering, never-ending.
I’ve tried to move on from this mess.
Accept me for me
But they return, the faces.
Like they need to be set free.
Don’t believe the rhetoric
The sea of soundbites
Honouring our ‘heroes’.
In this Celtic Tiger
East and West
I want to see a thaw, a drip, drip, drip on the morning leaves,
Rain writing on the window panes, a life-story of falling.
I want to see whiteness turn clear again
Until the road is a stretching liquid mirror,
The stream of cars stutter on second by second
Transferring to minutes. Accumulating
Along roads and junctions through towns
Where Christmas lights now glow – red, yellow and green