Lorraine Whelan

Submergence

Lorraine Whelan

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Fog blows fast.

It spreads and falls away from the windshield,

sends a ghostly chill through the air vents.

I shiver and watch the translucent white

from the spectral night

on the other side of the glass.


Our arrival at the cottage is under heavy storm.


Inside:

the smell of damp wood and urine,

the sound of heavy rain on a thin roof;

mosquitoes take shelter –

buzz loudly around our heads

as we huddle deeper into the warmth

of old, musty blankets.


By morning the rain is gone.


Outside:

bathing under the sun,

small puddles vapourise in the yellow heat

and the air shimmers below a cobalt sky.

Cloudless. Blue.


At sunset

sticky sweat replaces blood in my veins.

A warm wind brushes my eye.

Splashes of pink streak cirrus whisps

and evening darkens the orange sky.


The bay is a whiteness at night.

Chatter is distant and muffled.

Boulders watch in silence

as black shadows wade.

I follow close behind

toeing sharp stones to reach

the wave-rippled sand.

Then nothing beneath my feet

I tread.


Bathing under the moon:

silver face aglow.

Sea of Serenity.

A crater moans.

The dark sky is pinholed by stars.

The water is still and noiseless.

Air is cool on my skin.

I swim.




Lorraine Whelan


I am a writer and painter based in Bray, Co. Wicklow. Most recently my writing has appeared online in Circa's "This Matters Now" series (Oct 2016 & Nov 2016). My limited edition handbound books of lino prints Good Morning/Maidgín Mhaigh/Buenos Dias were included in the curated section of the Dublin Art Book Fair (Nov 2016).