share


One Night Without Incident

Freak July mists blurred all from Portsmouth to Reading
in a late summer sky turned wholly unfit for bombing,
as Luftschiff 31 finally broke free of the cloud-tops.

The radium on dials ghosted the first row of pilots.
Woellert, who dreamt constantly of falling airships,
briefly paused scraping the frost off his glovetips.

Panned out, it looked like the belly of a cresting whale,
or you in the bathsteam, my love, your face draining pale
each time our unborn paddles against your abdomen.

You know how the Hindenberg fell, and how hydrogen
can suddenly fireball. There were only so many times
Woellert saw damn with a full cargo bay over Mannheim.


ABOUT THE CONTRIBUTOR

was born in Derry, Northern Ireland. He won an Eric Gregory Award in 2006, an Irish Art's Council Bursary in 2009. His work has been published broadly in anthologies and journals, and his collection The Salt Harvest was published in 2011. It was shortlisted for the Short Award for Best First Collection in 2012.

READ NEXT

feature

October 2011

The White Review No.3 Editorial

The Editors

feature

October 2011

In the course of putting three issues of The White Review together, the editors have been presented with the...

feature

Issue No. 10

Seventeen Contradictions and the End of Capitalism

David Harvey

feature

Issue No. 10

Prospects for a Happy but Contested Future: The Promise of Revolutionary Humanism   From time immemorial there have been...

poetry

Issue No. 3

Two Poems

Rebecca Wolff

poetry

Issue No. 3

I approach a purchase adore my children— back away— that they revere ugliness the rainbow bag that holds a...

 

Get our newsletter

 

* indicates required