Poem

3 a.m. in Gran Canaria

In my fourth floor self-catering apartment,
I freed myself from the straightjacket of heat
And walked to the balcony,
I gazed up at the black blanket,
The pool below glowed and recovered from its daily beating,
Hotels illuminated their names in neon headaches,
Palm trees swished and crickets chirped,
Taxis whirred around in search of company,
Down the road a nightclub was booming
But its thumping bass was drowned out
By the charming familiar sound
Of drunks in blithe foolishness
Roaring slurred words of an old Irish song,

In that moment pangs of loneliness slapped me

I longed for home,
For the smell of cold air in the mornings,
For puddles and potholes on the grey roads,
The wind rattling the door,
The shit talk in the local,
I longed to complain about all of these things.

As I sat there, solitary as a thought,
I felt it,
In the unnatural light and stuffy tropical heat,
The sweet rains came and brought me home.

E.M. Reapy
Claremorris, Ireland

E.M. Reapy is a writer from Co. Mayo, Ireland. Currently completing the M.A. in Creative Writing in Queen's University Belfast. Her work has been published in anthologies and magazines, both in the UK and Ireland. She is currently current.

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