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Burns Blue || by Diarmuid Maolalai

Burns Blue

conversation – 
placing words
with some care,
some intention,
like bracken
to guttering
and half-started
fire. we are 
in the park.
have been 
often lately. 
covid, of course – 
bars closed 
and where else 
to talk? we are not
natural woodsmen, 
but facsimiles speak
in some small way 
of longing. 
don't hunt deer 
which wander, 
we don't light 
any fires. we sit 
on fallen stumps;
tell stories of weeks
and expectation. jack
brings a thermos 
of hot spiced cider. 
I bring wine; fallon, 
cans of beer. the world
is an underfoot moisture, 
like moss on a shadowed 
bar patio. we cannot
light fires – can't build flame 
from damp. but we talk 
a bit, and quietly,
sundown immediate
west. burns blue
in the five o'clock shadow. 
throws shadows 
like cinders of birds. 

Image Credit: ©Pinterest, Henri Matisse


DIARMUID MAOLALAI has been nominated eight times for Best of the Net and five times for the Pushcart Prize. His poetry has been released in two collections, "Love is Breaking Plates in the Garden" (Encircle Press, 2016) and "Sad Havoc Among the Birds" (Turas Press, 2019)

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