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