The sea of legends is vivid turquoise.
The evening sun sets gold. Where it catches
the cast net, see how it shines.
Who will make me a skein of gold chain?
Pale Irish gold, closer to silver, that lights up
gently, like moonlight on water.
Moonlight as it falls on water, and on the cast net
– that gathers and catches but, lost at sea,
will never again return to the quayside.
At Steamboat Quay, bollards no longer
used to moor boats bide their time
on either side of the platform, like sentries.
Here at Steamboat Quay, there is a woman writing,
and on the wrong side of the guard rail
closest to the water, a dancer.
On 'safe' ground, a small boy, and two women
who mind him. The child moves
in straight lines from writer to dancer.
The dancer creates viewing frames
with her interlaced fingers, she surveys
this place in triangles.
A boy and the women who mind him.
Clouds and all that is reflected
on the widest part of Quoile channel.
What connects one thing to another?
A heron, full-wing-span crosses
over the river, it's flight silent.
My mother gave me a present
of a noose as a pendant.
I wear it as a reminder.
The dance of the body free of the head.
The lace, not the loop, is around my neck.
The delicate balance of the neck.
A little touch on its tender side
and ripples spread through all the cells.
- a gibbet left to swing against the skin.
(after 'Tragic Magic' an exhibition by Ciaran Magill)
Heavy: the call of the ocean and constant
industrial traffic – lorries, van, tractors
moving, moving, holding low to the ground.
Heavy: the weight of this sky, like
the lid of the ocean and how you try
to hold it up. Your back bowed and aching
with the effort.
Sudden compassion -
bracken, brown, dried out, bleeds
its final colour in this river.
Sudden - a heatwave that comes
earlier than expected. Surprised trees
with bare-line branches
are like sketches amid this thick sky.
In one painting, a single figure walks
towards us through a pink and green landscape.
The curve of the road that leads back to the ocean
is behind -
this figure, not fully facing forward,
an extraordinary new day.
(poems are part of a sequence of dance-poems 'Knowing the Dance' created by poet Olive Broderick, dancer Paula Guzzanti and musician Martin Devek.)