Curved Water

Lying on the fiberglass board
beyond the breaking waves, rough waxed
surface beneath my chest, I look
toward the horizon, watch swell
rise, form into a surfable
wave moving towards shore.
I paddle towards the rising
wave, seek the perfect position,
turn one-hundred-and eighty degrees,
place the wave behind me, paddle
strongly as the wave begins
to lift me, accelerate
with the moving water, rise up
and into the wave towards
the crest. I jump to my feet, press
down with my front foot, skim down
the surface of the six-foot
transparent liquid wall, shoot out
in front of the breaker, board
chattering across the flat, lean
right, knees bent, carve into a turn,
then back into the face, salty
spray blowing onto my sunburnt
skin, saltwater on my tongue
and in my eyes, arms outstretched,
fingers of my right hand skimming
as I shoot the barrel, water
arcing overhead, breaking behind.

Clare Coast

Seek shelter of stone wall
from Atlantic gusts, sit
on grassy bank while wind
rattles gate and chain, grass
moves ceaselessly, clouds
obscure sun, grey skies lower,
distant waves crash against
the Cliffs of Moher.

Cattle huddle on hillsides,
stone walls climb slopes,
hedges line lanes, seagulls
soar and cry. Hair blows,
puddles ripple between
path and grass, houses scatter.
Fingers numb, nose runs, throat
itches, skin weathers. Waves
crash against rocks, islands.
Relentless wind batters.

Waves ripple in rock pools,
spray rides on the wind. Grass
and lichen grows yellow
and green in crevasses,
grey rocks and stone. Living
walls enclose green fields. Legs
numb exposed to weather.
Aran Islands appear
on the horizon. Land-
scape, weather dominate,
humans cling to life. Sea
relentless against cliffs.

River rushes towards
the Atlantic. Stone bridge
spans water. Cottages
line Fisherstreet. Cold stone
wall beneath me. River
flows through valley. Water
rushes over stone. Birds
sing and circle. Berries
climb the wall on branches.
Rabbit races away uphill.

Dún Laoghaire

You turn back towards your past
as rain slants across the strand,
immerse yourself in fiction
you created, grasp crumpled
paper in your gabardine
coat pocket, walk round the bay
to the pier, stand in the rain
with your back to the town, watch
the grey waves of the Irish
Sea chop and swell westwards, spray
blowing into your face, coating
your hair, beard, arms, legs and chest,
blending rainwater with salt-
water mist as you retreat.

Nathanael O’Reilly is an Irish-Australian poet residing in Texas. His books include Boulevard (Beir Bua Press, 2021); (Un)belonging (Recent Work Press, 2020); BLUE (above/ground press, 2020); Preparations for Departure (UWAP, 2017); Distance (Ginninderra Press, 2015); Suburban Exile (Picaro Press, 2011); and Symptoms of Homesickness (Picaro Press, 2010). His poetry, published in fourteen countries, appears in journals and anthologies including Anthropocene, Cordite Poetry Review, The Elevation Review, In Parentheses: New Modernism, New World Writing, Mascara Literary Review, Ponder Review, The Quarantine Review, Skylight 47 and Westerly. He is poetry editor for Antipodes: A Global Journal of Australian/New Zealand Literature.