Tramore Strand

Tramore Strand

Tramore Strand

Can you hear it there
     whispering anonymously, just
over the next hill
                            pebbles cast
     like isolated truths, the wet
sand holding them in place
                                           sea-shaped,
     their water-weathered edges
 
and the far-flung ocean like a dark room
     to be entered through the sun’s
watery glaze
                     bare-bodied, with mouths
     full of nothingness, of the salt-
scoured elementals of the tongue
 
We were only scavengers
amongst those sparkling particulars caught
     in the wintry light
                                   a gull’s
effervescent dive, the indescribable smell
     of wind-whipped skin
                                         and though we
managed to forget the slow wade back again
     through the heaving skirts
of marram grass
                           feet stumbling
     on its ground-hooks, arms wheeling
like an acrobat’s against the moon
 
when the dune-dust gathered round our torsos
     something like believing
slipped away
 
                      some unremarkable honesty
     that made us see each other as through glass,
that made us blink to see ourselves there.