Blue by John Doyle

"Soon the blue, so soon..."

David Gilmour/Polly Samson

Europe is a lighthouse,

a flash down coasts pebbled-beaches

resurrect in evening's blues.

Nocturne bends this

into sound highways 

near Rouen

cup their ears toward :

so do I - 

I’m a flashing shape

that hounded road-signs 

for spare-change,

grime-powdered Francs, anything that makes me 

realise - how morning and night - how

Tuesdays and Thursdays mean nothing here.

There is only sound - the yelp of taxis down boulevards 

to the summoning of proud

and erect heels -

Barcelona stretched across decades of cigarette illumination,

and the manholes on slate-grey streets, billowing pneumatic jazz,

all that Jazz…

In Corsica the sky leans towards me, holds out its hand

dropping me blankets of orange, blankets of red,

rusted gold, and the songs in powder-blue -

only one stayed the course 

as I sway alongside David Gilmour’s

solo, like a broken heart repaired by easel,

shifting dusk-time 

through every shade of blue.

This is my shade, I hold it in my palm,

join the queue, waiting.

No-one asked the sky

how grey could look so beautiful, 

we took it for granted I guess,

then dusk came and blessed us -

like the French, the Greeks,

those Italian fossils - bone shielded by stone

 John Doyle became a Mod again in the summer of 2017 to fight off his impending mid-life crisis; whether this has been a success remains to be seen. He has has two collections published to date, A Stirring at Dusk in 2017, and Songs for Boys Called Wendell Gomez in 2018, both on PSKI's Porch. He is based in Maynooth, County Kildare, Ireland. All he asks is that you leave your guns at the door and tie up your horses before your enter.