Read introduction

Midsummer 2019 marks twenty years since I moved from Dublin to Leitrim. Only a few degrees north, but the light difference is undeniable.

The Summer Door

Mamo__a__story_of_geraldine_plunkett_dillon_by_isolde_obrolchain_carmodyby Isolde ÓBrolcháin Carmody22 Jun 2019

Night slunk in the summer door
While I was reading.
A watery, half-arsed dark
Still trailing its horizon

The knack of sleep has left me
That falling off a log
Suddenly becomes a cliff-edge;
My brain steps back.

The outside is brought in for me
Aiding my convalescence;
Overblown blood roses
And drunken honeysuckle

Sit in a beer-bottle on my desk,
So I can watch each one dissolve;
Graceful perpetual motion,
Inperceptible fade-to-black

Feather-scattered floor
Disturbed by drifts of hay
Remembered by the breeze
Clinging to cat’s coats

Twenty-one times
I have inhabited this
Sub-sub-Arctic region
Where summer light will not die.