I think of the streets near your house:
glass suburban mall, sunset, trees
blooming with something like black rosehips.
I guess not really blooming, post- that.
The pines out here, where I sit retreating,
are like spines, and I mean both a person’s spine
and a thing like a porcupine quill. The arc
of a fish leaping from the lake is something
I only ever see via its after. There are so many betweens
to the light here: far forest glowing teal,
cloud sweeping in over the lake, the pulse
of a swan’s wings a shore away. The latter
is not about light, directly. Like a riddle: tell me which
one doesn’t belong, or which one belongs in a more
intricate way. Sudden sun, flaring
over the boathouse roof: I miss you.
The sky is big and soft.
Dr. Alicia Byrne Keane is a recent PhD graduate from Dublin. Alicia has been nominated for Pushcart and Best of the Net Prizes, and is in receipt of Irish Arts Council Agility Award and Dublin City Council Bursary Award funding, with a debut collection forthcoming from Broken Sleep Books (2023).