Ain't no such word as "slomp" Jessey had scolded me just yesterday. But a crawdad pokin' outta the deep mud ditch alongside the river always made kind of a slomp sound to my ears. That's how you knew ... [+]
Steve Denehan lives in Kildare, Ireland with his wife Eimear and daughter Robin. He is the author of two chapbooks and three poetry collections. Winner of the Anthony Cronin Poetry Award and twice winner of Irish Times' New Irish Writing, his numerous publication credits include Poetry Ireland Review and Westerly. "The Heron" is in Short Circuit #09, Short Édition's quarterly review.
I look out the car window across night fields squinting; I can see lives I never lived I drive on, into the village, into the rain a traffic light turns red; I see Picasso-people walking in the raindrops running down the window the crescent moon is thin a fingernail clipping pointless, almost; there are no stars a canal-bank heron becomes illuminated by the headlights as I pass; I wonder why it is not afraid