After the YouTube video of the same name
I’ve been seeing the days like individual nostrils
forcefully opening and closing for sprayed expulsion
waiting by a window in the ice, introducing our heads
to the water for cold pauses. Imagine a wrack of bubbles
wreathing the silence. Imagine this is a slide towards frozen
hunts, tracing the elisions as they flock their space, silting. If
we all shout and complain in big round syllables it will at least
be honest, we may even hear each other from each other’s gardens,
galumphing down our separate slopes to meet in a new element. Last
night I had a dream I was wading through a park also lake-surface, the
ground a shallow bowl. Pale dolphins refracted their images so they could
suddenly appear beside you, waiting a few metres away beneath the division,
communicating with us in tickings and growls. They announced each other like
theme music. I want to gather sufficient momentum that I can bounce myself along
this season like it’s a frozen surface, like I am made of a single segment and insulated.
Once we all got extra time at the end of an exam because a marching band went by outside.
Alicia Byrne Keane is a PhD student from Ireland working on an Irish Research Council-funded PhD study problematizing ‘vagueness’ and the ethics of translation in the work of Samuel Beckett and Haruki Murakami, at Trinity College Dublin. Alicia’s poems have appeared in The Moth, Abridged, The Honest Ulsterman, and Entropy.