Head down
New year, blue-chipped gravel, the hill
under black tar, ice;
where I hide,
breathe long white clouds.
Corrugated sheds, a reconciled herd,
star-crazed fractures on the road.
Sun low, and barely enough energy to light
the tips of waves.
Black, orange and white lifting
an oyster-catcher
moving me along the tideline.
Ideas of a forest in the push
and suck of sea lettuce.
The stern of a year settling in the sea
The stern of a year settling in the sea
and suck of sea-lettuce.
Ideas of a forest in the push
moving me along the tideline.
An oyster-catcher,
black, orange and white, lifting
the tips of waves.
Sun low and barely enough energy to light
star-crazed fractures on the road.
Corrugated sheds; a reconciled herd
breathes long white clouds.
Where I hide
under black tar, ice.
New year blue, chipped gravel, the hill.
Michael Ray is a poet and visual artist living in West Cork, Ireland. His poems have appeared in many journals, including The Moth, The Shop, Cyphers, Southword, The Stinging Fly, Magma, Numero Cinq, The Well Review, The North and New Coin.