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

October 2013

Last Supper in Seduction City

Álvaro Enrigue

TR. Brendan Riley

fiction

October 2013

 ‘. . . and the siege dissolved to peace, and the horsemen all rode down in sight of the...

Art

October 2015

Licence to Play

Thirza Wakefield

Art

October 2015

In his 1992 essay ‘In Search of the Centaur’, the writer and critic Phillip Lopate described the essay-film as...

fiction

September 2013

Seiobo There Below

László Krasznahorkai

TR. Ottilie Mulzet

fiction

September 2013

1 KAMO-HUNTER Everything around it moves, as if just this one time and one time only, as if the...

 

Get our newsletter

 

* indicates required