Covanta in a time of Covid. A poem by Sean Smith

The incinerator smoke, expelled as a statement over
the Sandymount sky, waste converted to wasteful.
Energy, disappeared over the bay.

This morning, over its pseudo silver surround,
the smoke is an inverted question mark,
as if its own existence is uncertain

or a straight plume of smoke that clashed
with a frown of sky that interrupted a smooth
ascent. A shudder in the cloudless expanse.


Sean Smith is a published poet and cricket lover. Sometimes the two worlds collide on twitter @pembrokecricket

1 Comment

  1. Very excellent imagery (appropriately stark like graphite). Thank You

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