Painter, Novelist, Poet

Dream Boat

Nothing much can touch the radiance of a heap
of sunbeams when we have the park
all to ourselves. Magpies could do almost
as good if we pause to look around
at whatever is floated up at the end
of the season.
D’you remember the paper boat
shaped like a hat that bobbed past us
in the gutter that ran down to Kemptown?
Later we found it junked on a traffic island,
its rim filled with our shared hopes and dreams,
and all the intangible stuff that couldn’t
get into a Noah’s ark.
Still, none of this matters much today
for we no longer need to make our own
feelings or amusements and what
we experienced long ago is hidden
in the heart of the dumb teddy
with his chewed-up ear.

Brian Fogarty 2013