From Here
The word for it might disappear,
the road run through its invisible wall.
The view from here is the border
vanishing around an otter,
swallows, tractor, trailer and damsel-
fly, not so much law as a stretch of water.
Mind your footing on its thin air.
There’s the fault whose tremor you feel.
The view from here is a border
gone over and over, a fact of nature,
an impression that’s begun to snowball,
not so much water as law and order,
a wavering queue, a detention centre,
a dotted line turned block and fractal:
the view from here is the border,
law and order written on water.
John McAuliffe is a poet, chief poetry reviewer for The Irish Times and teaches at the University of Manchester. His latest collection is The Way In. This poem first appeared in The Irish Times on 27th June and is reproduced here with thanks.
