Forever

We are way out here on the edge
of town,
and a breathless, gushing ocean
clings to your tidewash of shards.

We are way out here on the edge
of darkness,
and your smile assuages
all the graves on the hill.

We are way out here on the edge
of tomorrow,
and other lives come back to us
from the spindrift of another time.

We are way out here on the edge
of love,
and you have been forever the wind
that carries all my songs.

Entering the River

Because of the dirge in the dance,
because of the salt in the wave,
because of the fading glow
of the perfect ring,
you have rarely shared
the full warmth of your love,
but now you do … and so,
in the sunset spell
of something silently sexual,
at the end of a day
that is not the end of us,
your eyes say to me:
“Let’s go where the stars undress,
let’s feel the flow
and risk of the eternal river.”

Two Small Pebbles

Two small pebbles washed up together
at the same time, in the same place,
after a whole tidewash of transformations;
two small pebbles named me and you.

And we could call it a miracle,
or an accident – but, regardless,
the vastness of the sea still clings to us,
and we are close enough now to remember.

Martin McCarthy lives in Cork City, Ireland, where he studied English at UCC. He has published two collections: Lockdown Diary (2020) and Lockdown (2021). His most recent poems appear in the pandemic anthology, Poems from My 5k, and in the journals: Drawn to the Light, Seventh Quarry Poetry, Poetry Salzburg, The Lyric, The Road Not Taken, The Orchards, WestWard Quarterly, Better Than Starbucks, Blue Unicorn, Lighten Up Online, The Chained Muse and The Madrigal. He was shortlisted for the Red Line Poetry Prize, and is a nominee for the 2022 Pushcart Prize. At present, he is working on a long sequence of love poems, titled Book of Desire. Visit his website here.

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