East Wall by DS Maolalai

​The quays become coastline
as coal becomes ember. And then
there’s new buildings,
and buses which rumble
past shipyards and out
toward clontarf, stretching
as leaves stretch toward bud
upon spring-twisting oak trees.
We follow below them – I love this;
admire the casual passage
like an animal crawling through bushes.
The city, how it yawns
into suburbs like nature
with no demarcation.
Conversations of sea birds
picking clams from the weeds
at low tide, and dropped chips
in a McDonald’s carpark.
A tannin of colour; a texture
on tongues. Driving in sunset
we come around east wall;
we go into east wall to call
into your friend. The road curls
as woodgrain at knots in pine
planking. Past some kids
walking to Lidl for beers
or to loiter outside there
while someone else
goes in and gets them.