A Shop’s Glimpses
By Cormac Culkeen
A burble of children’s laughter Bottles a sharpened voice That takes in slopes of air, Presses from white walls In fades, while swatches Of headlights blink sleet, Coins of rutting movement, Collapsing postures of shadows Dancing along rifts of tile Where lights ring in them Like moons.
This Morning
By Cormac Culkeen
Lack of certitude counts down To a rising sun, Time preserves identities Born upon waking, The hills at dawn loom Like sleeping cutouts, A stranger feels decisions Settle in their chest, God wakes in a hospital And can tell no – one, A lover is praying gently For strength of flight, Needles pucker veins Ashamed of their face, Lungs swell, or sigh, Willing this day on, People wake entangled Newly wondering the other, A melody strums a soul, Begging it not be wasted, Hands are fondling money With a shrew’s appetite, Some hollow light will seize In shards, and won’t hurt, Memories sheathe a malice To which they’re condemned, Rain playing the windows may Slap your plans away, It’s very important to dance Into its waiting.
Cormac Culkeen
Cormac Culkeen is a writer of poetry, fiction and short stories. He lives and works in Galway, Ireland, and is currently beginning an MA in Creative Writing in NUI Galway, returning to university full time as a mature student in 2018, after completing a BA in Creative Writing. His debut poetry collection, ‘The Boy With the Radio’ has recently been published by Beir Bua Press in May 2022. He believes that writing should seize the readers heart and mind, or sit in their subconscious like a waiting spider. Sometimes all three.
Photo credit: Marek Piwnicki
Apricot Press 