Diarmuid Fitzgerald works and lives in Dublin as a school teacher. Two collections of haiku were published by Alba Publishing, Thames Way in 2015 and A Thousand Sparks in 2018. A chapbook of poems, Camino Cantos, is forthcoming from Lapwing Press. Poems have appeared in The Stinging Fly, Cyphers, Crannóg, The Blue Nib, Boyne Berries, Impossible Archetype, Flare and Crossways. You can read samples of poems or find out information on www.deewriter.com or on https://www.instagram.com/deewriters/
I set out and the full moon is in the sky.
The road curves suddenly turning in on itself,
a carpet of black with cat’s eyes.
The moonlight silences the sea,
a ring of copper around torn clouds.
A town glitters against the bay
as mud sucks the water in.
My lights flash against another car
who flashes back, momentarily blinding me.
The dial moves up a number
and time stands away.
There is surprise in each corner
and yet the same darkness keeps up with me,
the same line of paint glowing.
The road unfolds as it does
neither adding nor taking away.
Finally my mind is quiet.
The canal is quilted with brown leaves.
There are nine trees on the right bank,
teasing towards nudity. My college days are over
and the breakup of my friends is near.
I am left with the company of water, leaf, and tree.
I walk under the bridge and whistle to its stones
not wanting to return home and pack my bags.
A flock of swans fly over the bridge
their underbellies pure white,
they call in unison and settle in the rushes
far beyond my reach on the other bank.
© 2020 Diarmuid Fitzgerald