Chowder, poetry written by DS Maolalai at



written by: DS (Diarmuid) Maolalai



we decide
not to have breakfast at all
and instead
stay in bed
and head straight to howth
for lunchtime. howth – this cafe
where their whole thing was
they let dogs
in. we don’t
have a dog with us, but I order pizza
and you have pasta
and we share a bowl of chowder – all fish
and other seafood,
because it is still, after all,
howth. afterwards
I realise
I might not like chowder
anymore – I had it
last weekend
with a hangover, and it turns out
milky seafood
doesn’t sit. I walk you to the train
and find my bicycle – spin down
the coast road, watching the green
of seaweed
as it is slowly consumed
by tickling in
high tide.

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