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. 
 bloodied, wing-bent, 
 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.

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