DS MAOLALAI

Daylight grey

a cold evening. trains
overhead and on bridges. stone
rattles steel and the water
stains brickwork dirt black.
hands reach to pockets
for some warmth instead
of objects. daylight,
filtered and tabby
cat-grey. smoke-caked fur puffing.
old grease between corners
and under parked cars.
chip bags crawling
like crabs in the breeze. a man
at the doorway
to a quayside casino
between connolly train station
and o’connell st bridge
makes a decision and lights
a john player. his hand
cups some warmth
as his mouth draws
tobacco-smoke. taxis line up
in the unmannered manner of cattle
at gates into yards.
tonight is a landlord-bought
rolling-up blind
on a bedsit flat window
in dublin, the northside, closing
on uncoloured views.