2 Poems

cars ticking forward

in a row of commuters

like links on the chain

of a bicycle. the day

is quite clear, fresh-aired

and sky-blue. I am walking

on the quayside

past croppy acre park,

drinking a cup of coffee,

thinking about what

to have for lunch.

my girlfriend’s out too,

though she’s elsewhere;

she is walking the river

with ani, her friend.

when I see her

she’ll tell me

how they came on

a swan, or the end of one

anyway; a fox-eaten body

lying by the liffey-

side footpath. white wings

flat out, a pieta of tragedy,

and a ribcage collapsed

in the manner of girders

in buildings. flowers bob

in the breeze

and in time

as cars pass.

leaves blow along

on the pavement like stones

being skipped over

stretches of water,

though the crumpled ones scuttle

and tumble more slowly;

they move more like crabs

on a beach.

like she’s really

quite mad at me.

I forgot myself

last night

and finished her wine.

and before that

she tripped

on my shoes

in the hallway.

and before that

I dribbled some piss

on our tile. and then

was my short thing

(of course)

with amanda.

and before that

the business

with her

and with paul.

we share this apartment

like dogs in a dogpound.

snarl over coffee

and toast.