Aoife Lyall's The Day Before reviewed in The Sunday Times & Irish Times
The Day Before reviewed in Sunday Times, Irish Times & PIR; Poems of the Week in Telegraph & Scotsman; Summer books pick in Sunday Independent; interview with Aoife...
Launch reading by Fleur Adcock, Kerry Hardie and Aoife Lyall
Fleur Adcock, Kerry Hardie & Aoife Lyall launched their new collections online on Tuesday 20 February 2024. Now on YouTube. All three poets featured on Books for...
We comment on the tiger lamp, the nautical clock,
the sheepskin rug.
When I walk through the aisle of mirrors,
each one grabs
a piece of me for itself. Limbs savaged
from my torso
head nowhere to be found, I find frames
for paintings waiting
to be hung and glasses to replace the ones
we clean until they crack.
*
Moss
We thought it was pen at first or paint, a dab
under the chin, worked under the nails, found
in the folds of elbows, the backs of knees. But no.
We have started to moss. We see it everywhere:
the woods, the parks, the playgrounds; parents
trying to hide it under hats and gloves, children
picking it off each other like scabs. Some compare
colours, trace the lines as islands join to islands
form their soft continents. Advice arrives on the wind
like spores use less water, get more sunlight, consider
introducing competitive plants. We steer clear of sulfates,
scrub at it in the bath and shower, swap our sheets
for sand and gravel, but still it comes. And soon we start
to see whole families covered in the stuff. They move
slowly, erratic, glacial, curl up under slides and seesaws,
become benchmarks and bollards, milestones
and street sculptures, until those in charge are forced
to admit to the rest of us, all hanging by a thread –
*
Torch
A small thing, with coloured discs that slip
between the light and lens, it projects a host
of carnivores across our doors and walls. Until
one frame is just – an eye – big enough to dream.
I make a trick of hiding it, and leave a moon
for you to swell and shrink with insatiable orbit.
Determined to explore the deepest corners
of our makeshift den, you discover lost worlds
behind the curtains, figures fossilised in dust,
their shadows moon-dark beside missing bricks
and bits of breakfast, feral socks and stickers
with the mass and magnitude of asteroids.
And behind the couch, full of stars and covered
in dust, a yellow balloon, silent now and small,
knowing it was born from the dust the light
is dancing for: that it too was once a star.
*
The big shop
Mute, alone, we wander to the back of the queue, start
to wait. Some of us have lists but we are all beggars here.
The trolleys start and stop, and start and stop and finally
I make it to the top, wipe and wash and wait for instructions:
which arrows I must follow, which precautions I must take
which products are limited so each person has a chance.
And after all that, there is nothing – produce, yes, rows
and rows of it, haunted by people who can’t commit
themselves to what others may have touched. But there
are no newborns here, curlicued into cotton slings
as their parents rock the trolley, soothe the squash,
figure out what formula they’d need and if to buy it.
There are no toddlers pushing trollies or prostrate
on the floor, or slung over shoulders yelling protests
and demands the rest of us can hear but cannot meet.
No eager queue at the pizza counter, or tiptoed noses
peering over to where the heaps and mounds of toppings
used to be, no teddy bears on tour before returning
to their shelf. No chorus of entreaties for sweeties
and the silence that comes with them, no final requests
or closing arguments in the push towards the tills,
no babies on conveyor belts or sports teams packing bags,
or crisps sneakily being opened or hands waiting for their tokens,
no melted hearts or frazzled nerves – just a big shop.
Contents List
9 The day before
10 The early shift
11 Matinee
12 Moss
13 Essential items
14 Torch
16 Hamper
17 Mortification of the flesh
18 The Hail Mary box
19 Bath night
20 In bits
21 The big shop
22 My Scottish fathers
23 The train
24 rainbow
25 Going in circles
26 Traffic calming
27 Sundays
28 Wildflowers
29 Suburban soundscape: Summer
30 A day at the beach
31 Maternal instinct
32 Phantom
33 Day trip
34 Artisan
35 Psithuros
36 Chaos
37 Snow poem
38 Day Return
39 Tow Path
41 The Back of Five
50 Knuckles
51 Big School
52 Roadworks
53 The Distributor
54 I. For want
55 II. Side mirror
56 III. Beyond this point
57 IV. The badger
58 V. I would call them rock doves
59 VI. The hedgehog
60 VII. Dandelion girl
61 This page