written by Edie Weinstein. Edie Weinstein is currently working towards completing a Joint Honours degree in
English and Linguistics at UCD. She is the author of
Grandpa and Lucy: A Story about Love and Dementia and is a proud advocate of dementia education. A native of Saint Paul, Minnesota, she moved to Dublin in 2021 and has since fallen in love with the city (although sometimes she misses her dog, Scout). When Edie isn’t studying, she can be found reading in cafés, playing her trumpet, perusing art galleries, exploring Dublin with her film camera, or sea swimming at the Forty Foot.

Four girls and a speaker makes the time fly
houses punctuate trees, then sharpen

into stones

Now, the terrain untamable,
water oozes around icy bulbs on rock faces
and sprawls in sinister sheets

across the road
over which the car now picks its way
through the Conor Pass

Film flitting behind my lens
imprints itself with
verdant carpets swinging between ancient mountains,
mist shrouding their shoulders
as fast as my finger can click the shutter

Enameled sheep cast a cold eye
on life, on death
as we horsemen ride by

A seagull stares.
I stare back.
An interloper in his Kerry comedy.

Sunshine splices shadows across tiered
Cascading seafoam rims the islands’ edge,
cushioning sleeping giants

And beneath this walled drop,
reincarnated waves surge against rocks
before splitting to pirouette
into new crevasses

And our little car slices through it all
we turn up the volume
wind on down the road.

Image: Horseman, Pass By by Edie Weinstein.

CategoriesIssue VIII