glide, necks arched, curling downward

like worms on hooks. these are not

stately symbols – these are

animals, coursing a winter of water.

cans stud the surface like gems

on engagement rings, slinking

through glistens of oil. a man

on the quayside stops and looks

down for a moment. he’s on his way

somewhere; has a beer, wears

a coat with a hand in the left hand-

side pocket. life flows by

slowly, in cars and on bicycles

past him. below are the birds,

and around him the rainwater

shines off the road, reflective as skin

on a blackberry. a tree’s bald

and straggling pubic hair

hangs over darkness.

shadows behind it give

shape to the edge of the light.

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DS Maolalai has been described by one editor as “a cosmopolitan poet” and another as “prolific, bordering on incontinent”. His work has been nominated twelve times for Best of the Net, ten for the Pushcart and once for the Forward Prize, and has been released in three collections; Love is Breaking Plates in the Garden (Encircle Press, 2016), Sad Havoc Among the Birds (Turas Press, 2019) and Noble Rot (Turas Press, 2022).

twitter: @diarmo1990 | instagram: dsmaolalai