written by Shawn Galligan
The Irish boys are out today
all back muscles and swim trunks
(the trepidation of bare skin and harsh wind)
Slick ladder into freezing water
The kind of wind that blows doors open
Curved white walls for showering and cowering
Joyce watching from the perch in the old tower
When he touches the ocean he yelps, and races for shore.
A woman has lost her special bracelet;
very sentimental, silver with roman numerals
(please give her a call if you see it)
Staggering cathedral into ship-replica graveyard
Army fortification into rigid archive
Skin into plaster into bronze
Sea into spray into wind
When I hide beneath the edge, I can still feel it.
You always hear about that big jump –
Another time, then. The sun will be out.
(and perhaps even the illness will subside)
Image: Dublin x My View. S.A.M, Photography
Audio: Reid D. Allen