Órla Fay

A Day of Rain

Órla Fay

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For the first time in years

I peel an orange for myself,

almost panicked by the time

it takes and the messiness

of the task. The slowness of eating,

belongs to the tempo of the rain

that pours and pours

volumes of collecting silence.

On my fingers then a morning

in Seville –

The smoky scent of tangerine

preceded the sunrise.

The day before it had been too hot

to find the Plaza de Armas bus station.

Thirty five degrees and rising

seemed only to brand despair.

I sweated out a broken heart

wiped it from forehead to sleeve,

tried to leave it behind,

the baby in a bath of cool water.

As if I could. It stayed with me,

an invisible scar, a moon’s crater.

It asks for love, for forgiveness,

for another chance to grow,

pleading as a child now,

impossible to deny,

or a flower, a moon-flower,

never before imagined

and only entirely possible

on a day such as this

when permission is granted

to venture from bus to rocket.

Órla Fay

Órla Fay is the editor of Boyne Berries Magazine. Recently her work has appeared in Spontaneity, The Ogham Stone, Sixteen Magazine, The Ofi Press Special Arctic Issue and A New Ulster. Her poem Word Skin was longlisted in The Anthony Cronin International Poetry Award 2017. She blogs at http://www.orlafayblogspot.ie and more of her work can be found on http://www.orlafaypoetry.com