by Stephen McGuinness
Aromas of coconut
cinnamon, then
coconut again, hang
over cosmopolitan
coffees and mis-matched tables.
A trail of blood splashes
soaked into the pavement
a relic of the festival
a fossil in concrete.
Too old for mirrored glasses
a tattooed man spits
bravado at a compliant
woman, leaning away.
A clock chimes quarter-to
the bells bouncing
off long forgotten
copper-green domes.
I move along
squinting in the sun.
cinnamon, then
coconut again, hang
over cosmopolitan
coffees and mis-matched tables.
A trail of blood splashes
soaked into the pavement
a relic of the festival
a fossil in concrete.
Too old for mirrored glasses
a tattooed man spits
bravado at a compliant
woman, leaning away.
A clock chimes quarter-to
the bells bouncing
off long forgotten
copper-green domes.
I move along
squinting in the sun.
Stephen McGuinness works as a chef in Dublin 8 and lives in Wicklow. His poems have been published online on Eat Sleep Write, Calliope Magazine, The Blue Minaret Literary Magazine, and by Silverbirch Press in the “I am Waiting” and “Where I Live” series.
Leave A Comment