top of page

Fjallaljós by Ewen Glass


Light met us at the bar door,

shook hands with our heads

and was patient.

Settling in eyes between

in there and last night, and

out here and this morning,

great insect-clouds of ash

moved us to dance

through Reykjavik morning to

something more bass;

something more base

between magma and rift,

vodka and mixers,

little rivers of fire in us

that would burn for months when

we finally got a flight back,

and begged still to talk about it

years later, that chance meeting

in another country,

with another kind of light.


___________

Ewen Glass (he/him) is a screenwriter and poet from Northern Ireland who lives with two dogs, a tortoise and lots of self-doubt; his poetry has appeared in the likes of Okay Donkey, HAD, Poetry Scotland and Gordon Square Review.

 

Twitter/IG/Bluesky/Threads: @ewenglass

0 comments

Comments


bottom of page