Strathearn School, Belfast, Northern Ireland
Swimming in Loch Súilí (The Lake of Shadows)
through my fingertips.
In every drop I stroke:
Shipwrecked ghosts and a sky of salty stars.
A hundred tales creep down my throat.
In every drop I swallow:
and the music
bitter tongue slurs
across the Devil’s Backbone.
I can remember when I first spat him out.
In every drop I see: the foam of his Moon-Mother’s
milk and the golden shafts of his Sun-Father.
I cannot stretch his tides or calm
his storms as they do. I see:
myself, a stone
dragged to the
I have stayed
too long, he has
carved valleys into my skin
and beaten away my
bones with each
© Eva Wallace, 2013
- Date February 2, 2015
- Tags 2013 The Details - Winning Poems