Heatwave

it rained falling scaffolding

heavy the previous week.

now the sun, concentrated

by floating up puddles,

burns every pedestrian neck

with a nuclear focus. the world

is bright yellow and white,

and filled with the ringing sound of footballs

banged against corrugate steel

gates in the shelter of alleyways.

once I was walking – I was in

ormond square. I was going

nowhere, and a seagull

had a pigeon by his head.

it was like watching a nature

documentary. I watched it; the wings

of the dying bird moving

up and down like a shop-shutter

blocked by a kid with a stick.

the gull was as wild as a puppy

and two other gulls watching.

there wasn't any blood, and the pigeon

was shrugging his shoulders. I've seen

people fired from jobs they religiously

needed. things die not wanting

to die, as does anything living,

and knowing as well that

they will. on capel st the bars

were as usual incredibly lively.

D.S. Maolalai

ABOUT THE POET:

DS Maolalai has been described by one editor as "a cosmopolitan poet" and another as "prolific, bordering on incontinent". His work has been nominated fourteen times for BOTN, eleven for the Pushcart and once for the Forward Prize, and released in three collections; "Love is Breaking Plates in the Garden" (Encircle Press, 2016), "Sad Havoc Among the Birds" (Turas Press, 2019) and “Noble Rot” (Turas Press, 2022).