An Exceptionally Dry and Warm May. A poem by Colin Dardis

Sailors believed it was bad luck
to retrieve that which was lost to the sea;

the sea can no more give back the drowned
than we can stand by their graves.

A neighbour chants private prayers
while the stereo gives tonal halleluiahs;

halleluiahs for a faith when there is so
little in the reviewed world to praise.

The youngest daughter forages her family
from collated video screens for the evening;

evening time measured out in
how-many-new and how-many-gone.

Little fingers bend colour across pages
and plot thank yous with a pressed thumb;

thumb and finger of parent adjust
their mask before visiting the sun.

May, the sunniest month on record,
all this light in which to see the dead.


Colin Dardis is a poet, editor and arts coordinator. His work has been published widely throughout Ireland, the UK and USA. His latest collection is The Dogs of Humanity (Fly on the Wall Press, 2019).

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