Poem
Billy Ramsell
An Otter
An Otter
An Otter
Christmas day, 4 o’ clock,Stumps of cloud, like yellowing tower blocks,
Lean over
The failing glimmer of Christmas lights
And the quays, that are utterly empty,
Except
For one dark otter, slick with river slime,
A shape
Made of dark Lee water,
Of thick fluid,
Of rippling muscle,
Swaggering, like any pedestrian,
Up the steps from the dry riverbed,
Across the silent street,
Past dim shop displays, shuttered windows,
Toward a car parked skew on the footpath,
Its engine idling, its front door open,
Its headlights ploughing the gloom,
And a girl, its solo driver,
Standing alone on the pavement.
She is innocent, beautiful.
She leans over the otter.
Her long hair hangs down
As a second slinks up the steps from the riverbed,
Like a hand sliding slowly
From a hip to a breast.
© 2007, Billy Ramsell
From: Complicated Pleasures
Publisher: Dedalus, Dublin
From: Complicated Pleasures
Publisher: Dedalus, Dublin
Poems
Poems of Billy Ramsell
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An Otter
Christmas day, 4 o’ clock,Stumps of cloud, like yellowing tower blocks,
Lean over
The failing glimmer of Christmas lights
And the quays, that are utterly empty,
Except
For one dark otter, slick with river slime,
A shape
Made of dark Lee water,
Of thick fluid,
Of rippling muscle,
Swaggering, like any pedestrian,
Up the steps from the dry riverbed,
Across the silent street,
Past dim shop displays, shuttered windows,
Toward a car parked skew on the footpath,
Its engine idling, its front door open,
Its headlights ploughing the gloom,
And a girl, its solo driver,
Standing alone on the pavement.
She is innocent, beautiful.
She leans over the otter.
Her long hair hangs down
As a second slinks up the steps from the riverbed,
Like a hand sliding slowly
From a hip to a breast.
From: Complicated Pleasures
An Otter
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