Days which bring a song to us
are days that slowed down a globe
to watch the queens of hemispheres plant corn in the droves of August;
it's summer-time,
a time to cleanse your curtains,
wear a dress to match your shoes
that doesn't submit to swords and sea,
that won't leave toe-traces on sands that fire turns to glass -
there, water washes-up to take a soul,
a soul left in a song a window starts to lock-in,
that curtains hide
like a spider looks for a fly
John Doyle was born in 1975 and is from County Kildare in Ireland. He lives in Dublin with his wife and his dog, and has had eight poetry collections published since 2017. He works as a magazine reporter.
No comments:
Post a Comment