Friday, 1 February 2019

Water Table

A random gap in the clapboard shows a steep drop
and a corrugated wall holds up the other bank. 
Red cranes are busy again after being slack.

Water bleeds through. This hole is no longer
a fresh cut. The city feels its veins, 
needs new wounds. Progress is like a thief.

Under the mucky pool 
water creeps in a slow insinuation, 
saliva running down a blocked throat.

Concrete will pour in and the hole will be
stanched with glass and steel. 
In the mud, nettles multiply and grow rich.

© Diarmuid Fitzgerald

House completions reached nine-year high in 2018

Diarmuid Fitzgerald has had two collections of haiku published, Thames Way and A Thousand Sparks both by Alba Publishing. Poems appeared in The Stinging Fly and Cyphers. Follow Diarmuid on