Windows Facing Windows Review.

an open journal of poetry

Seashells, windturbines

DS Maolalaí

this is west galway
countryside — near barna
and nothing
but sky and the black
earth below us,
the hum of these
slicing horizons.
no trees for some miles,
and no houses —
small bushes, ragged
like a broken comb
dropped by a radiator.
you can see sometimes,
walking, what’s the source
of religion. it grows
in the same earth
as heather.