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Howard Wright

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The Shallows

Raw teeth of the tranquil
                    heat-soaked lough, masculine
between landlocked thighs,
                    where you've pulled up the hem
of your purple homemade dress
                    above knees already ankle-deep
in the light, thinned and broken
                    by the glare, the dazzle-drizzle,
the salted ozone, the déjà vu
                    of tobacco in the rippling sweet
yellow air over mellow industry,
                    a chorus line of shipyard cranes,
the sprinkled sparkle of steel
                    and silver, an urban zodiac
of glass houses, constellations
                    with the confidence of money
stepped back from the sea,
                    and you dancing for the shore
chased by the crashing wall
                    of bow waves and wake arriving
fifteen minutes after
                    the car ferry has faded
to nothing at hazy landfall.

Howard Wright is a lecturer in Art History at the University of Ulster at Belfast. His last collection was Usquebaugh (Redbeck Press) and more recently he has had poems in Magma, The North and
Leviathan.

Page(s) 97

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