My uncle saw the world from the bridge of an oil tanker he didn’t send postcards he lived them returning with fistfuls of stories real life fantasies how he fought and caught swordfish saw the night seas pulse and glow a bio-luminescent time he handed me the kite not an ordinary kite but one from The Orient made by an old man, an artisan a lifelong kite maker it shimmered red and gold and I held it, a holy thing that still had the scent, the dust of adventure on it for weeks it remained in my bedroom too precious to cast into the elements until a ray of sunlight found it I took it to the green put it on a soft breeze watched it soar watched it take the sun and make it more a new bio-luminescence shining and exotic set against the seeping ink of evening the dog was entranced too running in circles, jumping for it barking wildly its owner laughed and I laughed too until I saw the future until the breeze stilled and the kite fell and the dog pounced tearing it asunder as though it was a living thing I held the string, limp in my hand the owner looked at me I looked at him the dog fell silent
Steve Denehan lives in Ireland with his family. He is an award-winning poet and the author of two chapbooks and three collections.
Main Squeeze Literary Journal 