In the endless metropolitan grey,
the weekend flashes by between two darknesses.
Many wander lost in the pause:
swimming, lying on the beach or flying,
giving their bodies back for a moment
to the elements from which they were made,
while others die, going back to them for good;
time has washed against them like waves against a cliff.
Still others, stung by the same old wasp,
have made a child who, many years from now,
will value his life by these moments
between doing one thing and another.
But the weekend sun sets on them all,
dragging them back over the bridge
as it falls on another bright Sunday.
Bio:
S.C. Flynn was born in Australia of Irish origin and now lives in Dublin. His poetry has recently been published in Abridged, SurVision, Beir Bua, The Waxed Lemon and A New Ulster.