A new routine – out early with the gulls,
around the Head, as quiet now as crew-cut Colt,
its causeway spindly-boned and rising
through a low spring tide.
Our new obsessions, footsteps, totalled
on an App designed for everything except this –
and breath, the breath of all who might pass shy
of touching distance.
This new reality, those stats – the count
I'm keeping tabs on, how the numbers tally up
to one of my own blood this morning,
on that map.
i.m. Thomas Meade
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Enda Coyle-Greene’s most recent collection is Indigo, Electric, Baby (Dedalus Press)
