Marion McCready: Where The Dead
Where the Dead
Cloud-shadows darken the windows.
In an upstairs room I watch the city glide by.
The gulls have followed me to Wet Paint city, where you live,
in a Fairtrade sky.
the white-backed gull runs
dragging its hung limb
Berry-reds burden the thin air
in the hills above the Clyde.
She has a calling into the darklands,
tumbling through the air... the taste of seaware rising...
the parachute of her hair.
“ma mam, she’s as high as a kite
and ma nan, she’s finished wi’ me.
Am sorry… Right?”
Broken trees on the train track
(ON TIME). Bricked up windows,
the gray crimes of the town wash into the Clyde.
A white dog prowls, the hills of Kilkreggan
growing across the river.
if the world revolves,
the clouds I see
are the clouds of yesterday
Daffodils, pale, washed-out rags.
Ivy-wrapped trees. The rail track, a wasteground,
a derelict graveyard. They exhume bodies
to build a road.
I left you in peatland
marshmoor and the Minch
where the dead in Christ shall rise
Marion McCready lives in Dunoon, Argyll. Her poems have appeared in a variety of publications and anthologies
including The Edinburgh Review, Northwords Now and The Glasgow Herald. Calder Wood Press published her pamphlet
collection, Vintage Sea, in 2011.