It's just poetry, it won't bite


05.11.19 Posted in today's words by

Diarmuid ó Maolalaí recently returned to Ireland after four years away, now spending his days working maintenance dispatch for a bank and his nights looking out the window and wishing he had a view. His first collection, Love is Breaking Plates in the Garden, was published in 2016 by the Encircle Press. He has twice been nominated for the Pushcart Prize.

By Diarmuid ó Maolalaí

cold beach in february.
the dogs
are running on the sand
and rolling in drowned fishes. dunes
like short hair in the breeze
flicker down
low over the horizon.
when we get behind them
the dogs dig holes
and eat mouthfuls of urgent dirt.
they say they do it
because there is iodine
in the tide here,
but no matter,
I have to stop them—
it’s the only time
I ever hear them growl at me.

Comments are closed.

Subscribe to Blog via Email

Enter your email address to subscribe to this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email.

Join 2,364 other subscribers

Latest Podcast Episode
vox poetica archives
%d bloggers like this: