DS Maolalai

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Rockslides.

rocks; the god
of time and oceans. the way
things tilt, all pressure
underground. they shift – quite stylish
like rockslides
from a distance. worlds collapse
beneath collapsing
mountains. the first tree breaks
from shells of broken
rocks –

​the sea is the sea
and ocean all the time; coastlines
the only things
which alter.



Old coals, these young fires.

somewhere near the top
of the mountains over dublin,
looking at the city
like embers, smouldering
in a firepit, banking
and sparking late at night. and we drive

ourselves together,
hardly knowing
where we're going,
young and finding a place
to see the world stretched out
like this, and feel
each others chests.

​these old coals, these
young fires.
scraping themselves
together
and delighted
to be spent.