revision

Dinner In Galway

We first laid eyes on you over drinks

and dinner in the Latin Quarter,

a short stroll from the Spanish Arch, 

its historical significance gone

in a heartbeat along with all

expectation of ambush

by austere beauty

on those wind swept stepping stones

Inishmore, Inishmaan and Inisheer.

The River Corrib gleams

like vintage vinyl beneath

Wolfe Tone Bridge,  

grainy and black as your liquid

image glowing serene on screen,

countless heartbeats of moonlight

mingling quayside with the sea

in a salty embrace that stings

my eyes and seizes me

by the throat.

The windows of St. Martin’s

frame the timeless river.

Soft chamois of morning lifts

the stubborn tarnish of dawn

from its braided embellished tales.  

We tuck into our full Irish and drink

watery coffee while you float outside

time to the rhythm of the tides

in your small brackish sea.