‘Synecdoche’ by Dorothy Dickinson
Poetry has never let me down,
but words do, often.
The night has never made me sad,
but the stars do, often.
Listen.
When you peel a tangerine,
the scent clings onto your skin.
When you blow out a candle,
the flame lingers on the wick.
All I want is to be
that loyal to this world.
Death has never frightened me,
but leaving does, often.
From issue #5: autumn/winter 2017
About the Author
Dorothy Dickinson hails from the United States originally, but would very much like Ireland to keep her. She holds an MPhil in Literary Translation at Trinity and has previously had her work featured in journals such as Opus and College Green.
