share


Poem for the Sightless Man (After Kate Clanchy)

This is just to say,

 

that the inked glasses that you wear look like

the sound of shop front shutters at five,

clattering on rollers and hiding merchandise,

 

and your incisors, exposed by your smile,

look like the feeling

of top cupboard china in my grip,

 

while in light snow, your hair, pulled and woven

may look like the taste of the crumb

of a Tunnock’s snowball on my tongue

 

and the skin on your face, hugging your mouth

and tucked under your glasses that is

moulded and folded by your lips

 

stirs in my mind like the balmy coffeed breath

of an office worker, passing me at nine.


ABOUT THE CONTRIBUTOR

was born in 1990 in Northern Ireland, and studies English and Film at Queens University Belfast. Her inspiration comes from her surroundings. This is her first poem to be published.

READ NEXT

fiction

November 2016

The Miserablist

Anne Boyer

fiction

November 2016

This vision was strongly nebulous, an indeterminate but bold reaction only because it was so much like one of...

Interview

Issue No. 7

Interview with Keston Sutherland

Natalie Ferris

Interview

Issue No. 7

Said by the New Statesman to be ‘at the forefront of the experimental movement in contemporary British poetry’, Keston...

fiction

January 2016

Good People

Nir Baram

TR. Jeffrey Green

fiction

January 2016

Good People opens in Berlin in 1938. Thomas Heiselberg has grand plans to make the company he works for the...

 

Get our newsletter

 

* indicates required