A new work by Stephen de Búrca
The ziggurat of metal scraps, each dredged
up from Atlantic-buried beds,
weathered away at the head of the pier.
Stateless, the misted air
carried the scent of coal
An emblem of medieval pilgrimage gains fresh resonance in a more recent time of plague
A melancholy December vision in Liverpool invokes a Dickensian ghost with more worldly but still warm realism
A single missing word in the 1902 poem sparks a deeper look at rhythm, dialect and longing
The moon becomes the witty image of an isolated and contemptuously neglected elderly relation
Two sonnets absorb with calm clarity a boy’s anguish at his mother’s loss
A collective dash for shelter in the city takes on a spiritual, near-religious power
