Arsenic Lobster poetry journal Issue Forty-one
Summer 2016
Battersea Power Station, 4A.M.
           For Sinéad
Lorcán Black

I cannot see the stars here.

In the distance
the four monstrous
arms of the disused power station
are stretching themselves

toward a black sky-

dark mirror
reflecting nothing.

Traffic drags itself toward destinations
I know nothing of

so far from your face,
your voice-
the scent of the house we grew up in.

The sea is the only barrier,
vast in its arrogance.

In dreams I hear you speak to me

but always I wake to the garbled
sound of foreign accents mashed in mouths

resembling nothing I know well.

I wanted to tell you-
they remind me of you.

About Lorcán Black

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