the blue secret eye of the sky
to the west and the evening. this end
of the city – a land scratched
by developers building brick wall to plasterboard
by highways and undeveloped
farmland. leaving tallaght, you pass fag-
end housing estates, groceries
backed onto petrol stations. in between, the trees bend
as if holding the clouds for a moment – a favour
they owe to the sky. the road here is broken
by traffic which passes, but not enough
to justify repair. a coworker shows
me a video of something
from his blessington housing estate near the lakes
and the mountain. it’s a man breaking into
a van and another man beating his blood.
pausing for breath for a moment with shirt off
in what must be cold winter evening
and then checking to see
if it’s murder. you can see his breath
even on the bad cctv. eddie knows both – they drink
in the same pub sometimes. there are cities
and wilderness, edges of cities. traffic thickens
and thins out in evenings:
low tides making islands
and wandering crabs between trash.

About The Author:

DS Maolalai has been described by one editor as “a cosmopolitan poet” and another as “prolific, bordering on incontinent”. His work has nominated twelve times for Best of the Net, ten for the Pushcart Prize and once for the Forward Prize, and has been released in three collections; “Love is Breaking Plates in the Garden” (Encircle Press, 2016), “Sad Havoc Among the Birds” (Turas Press, 2019) and “Noble Rot” (Turas Press, 2022)