The Former Docklands
written by: DS (Diarmuid) Maolalai
@diarmo1990
on the edge of every
building, the rippling
reflected suns, falling
and never falling
in any straight-down
lines. curling instead,
against common-
sense instinct, like walking
through a yellow-lit supermarket,
and lightbulbs on scales
of the ice-pillowed
fish. on this glass, nothing
stays straight in its landing;
things bend their reflection
and a certain imperfection
you see in the light.
and I cycle some evening,
down the quays
past o’connell st,
toward the quiet
former docklands,
(now office-builds for tech)
as the light, bounced
at the pavement,
is thrown to bending
recurvances,
twisting itself like snakes
being driven from lairs
under hammers of noisome
construction. it’s empty
now, of course,
all work taken home
and dust has come up,
obscuring the views
of glass-built buildings
and the docklands’
quiet decay
from which buildings rise
in pointing, bent architecture
like the whited
sunburned spirals
of a lonely
broken rib.
- A Cold-Blooded Animal - July 23, 2022
- The Former Docklands - May 31, 2021
- Chowder - May 27, 2019
