Painting a hot day.
a woman
in a housecoat,
threadbare
on her balcony,
eating an apple
which is dirty
with fingerprints,
looking
at a view
of the ground.
A bright day.
I can’t find my glasses.
they are somewhere
in the apartment,
but I am at work
in an office-building
opposite customs
overlooking the river
where Dublin
meets the sea.
I wear prescription
sunglasses, get odd looks
from the deli-man
as I grab a cheap sandwich
at the corner
near Tara St station. it’s not
a bright day; the sky dusty
as a broken piano,
untuned and hardly
played, a closed lid
in an under-used
guestroom. I walk
out to the evening
which slaps against weather
quite heavily, like a flag
in Kilbarrack
hanging from a window.
the world today
is clear and lovely,
the dark grey pavements
wet as bathroom mirrors.
I lean by the corner
and eat my sandwich. wear
my sunglasses, enjoy
the cold autumn, egg
salad emulsion
and a fingerprint thinness
of bread.
DS Maolalai has been nominated eight times for Best of the Net and five times for the Pushcart Prize. His poetry has been released in two collections, “Love is Breaking Plates in the Garden” (Encircle Press, 2016) and “Sad Havoc Among the Birds” (Turas Press, 2019)
Shambles 