Tonight there is no compass:
stars camouflaged by satellites, late planes.
Beams follow foxes on night trails,
surveillance helicopters light up lanes.
In tinseled houses, on the brink
of life, machines – on standby – hum.
Awakened by the glow, I lose
my bearings to deceitful twilight
and long to sink in blackness,
in deepest dark to feel, before I see,
stealing along a stone-lined passage
the inkling of a creeping shaft of spring.
Poem by Amanda Bell (Ireland)
Published in Issue 35 of The Ofi Press.
Amanda Bell is a member of the Hibernian Writers' Group. Her work has been published in The Stinging Fly, the Burning Bush 2, Crannóg 35, and has been shortlisted for the Mslexia Women's Poetry Competition 2013 and the Cúirt New Writing Prize 2014. She is a doctoral candidate in University College Dublin and works as a freelance editor.
Image used under creative commons laws. By Dave Kliman: https://www.flickr.com/photos/kliman/