Emer Fallon

This wind has untethered us all. 
Just this morning I found the dog floating 
a few feet beyond the hall door. 
His eyes were white with terror. Later 
a hen blew over the garden fence.
It’s this wind. It’s doing strange things
to the animals, my hair. Yesterday 
I went for a walk and came back 
all in a heap. 
I barely knew myself in the mirror.
I’d swear that wind blew every thought 
I’ve ever had clean out of my head.
Sometimes I actually forget you are dead. 
Sometimes I think the wind 
just blew you clean away – 
clear across Brandon Bay.
‘Come back,’ I call. ‘Come back.’
But of course you never answer.
‘How’s she looking this morning?’ you’d ask.
Well today the bay looks beautiful –
all cruel glitter and jewels. I miss you 
when I load the dishwasher. You were always 
so bloody particular about where everything went. 
I just don’t know anymore. 
I sometimes forget what the things are called. 
And the bed is cold. I use two quilts most nights.

Page 41, Poetry Ireland Review Issue 117
Issue 117

Poetry Ireland Review Issue 117:

Edited by Vona Groarke

Issue 117 includes new poems from over twenty five poets from Ireland, the UK, the US and elsewhere, along with three new poems by Michael Longley, one of the UK’s foremost contemporary poets. The issue features reviews of more than twenty new poetry collections, including books by Seamus Heaney, Paul Muldoon, Claudia Rankine, Louise Gluck, Eavan Boland, Dennis O’Driscoll and Dermot Healy. Interviews include a feature on photographer, Seamus Murphy, about collaborating with musician and poet PJ Harvey and poet Eliza Griswold on separate publications, as well as an interview with Welsh poet Gwyneth Lewis by Colette Bryce. Colour plates include photography by Seamus Murphy and artwork by Niamh Flanagan.