from ‘Designing Waste’ by James O’Sullivan

We’re not the first to speak of spiders,
crawling out from under citadels,
spying assorted moths, toeing snow-drops
on Abbey Street, dreaming of storefronts
lined with daffodils, a fractal realm
of balanced strands, gathering dust.

April isn’t the sole offender, beyond the pale
tone of violet sit forgotten garden gnomes
who would relish surprise. We put them there.
Surrounded by nature, stem and root,
soaked by showers, where mounds are mountains,
facial structures estranged to expression.

The Mardyke is real; those that wander thither
did not put it there, and when the doom comes
crawling they do not think of pawns, thunder,
overzealous clergymen or shifting tides.
They built in a flood plain, and were shocked
when it flooded where they built.

Nobody crosses the shaky bridge anymore,
where it is always winter; perpetual fog
rolling across a city that burned as penance –
it would seem waste is worth ruling;
one can grow fat anywhere, kiting
above ashes as well as girders or soup kitchens.

From issue #1: autumn/winter 2015

About the Author
James O’Sullivan’s work has appeared in The SHOp, Southword, Cyphers, Crannóg and Revival. He placed third in the Gregory O’Donoghue International Poetry Prize 2016 and has twice been shortlisted for the Fish Poetry Prize. His most recent collection of poetry is Courting Katie (Salmon 2017). He is a lecturer at UCC. For more information visit jamesosullivan.org