{"id":11426,"date":"2020-07-28T08:48:23","date_gmt":"2020-07-28T07:48:23","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/?p=11426"},"modified":"2020-07-29T11:21:20","modified_gmt":"2020-07-29T10:21:20","slug":"2-poems-2","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/?p=11426","title":{"rendered":"2 Poems"},"content":{"rendered":"

<\/h4>\n

Glasgow Nights<\/b><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/h4>\n

The city falls in bursts of light around me. I am falling too.
\n<\/span><\/span><\/span>Life in the shape of cars float across the Kingston Bridge.<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

Inside each car, the drivers daydream. Hand on wheel,
\n<\/span><\/span><\/span>foot on pedal, driving into the sky; faces calm as mannequins.<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

The bridge simply carries them. She is obedient and good.
\n<\/span><\/span><\/span>South of the river, I walk the long road to the men and women<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

of swollen livers and burst hearts.
\n<\/span><\/span><\/span>The alleyways threaten; estuaries of bin bags, middens,<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

rats eyes. The souls of the Clyde float up and down,
\n<\/span><\/span><\/span>their cold bodies offer no answers.<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

The air roars with the spirit of a train sliding into the glass and girders
\n<\/span><\/span><\/span>of Central Station. My eyes follow the train to its destination.<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

The station is no home to speak of. Its rooms are museums
\n<\/span><\/span><\/span>of the future. The Clyde river is a coming together<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

of the Daer and Potrail waters. And tonight
\n<\/span><\/span><\/span>the Clyde is smooth tar; eating the light, eating the light.<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

Written on Board MV Coruisk<\/b><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/h4>\n

My mind is still caught in the wind-hurled walk
\n<\/span><\/span><\/span>down to the ferry – rain lashing my coat.
\n<\/span><\/span><\/span>I drew it all into my body – wet knees, wet gloves,
\n<\/span><\/span><\/span>watching the downpour whip the shining tarmac;
\n<\/span><\/span><\/span>\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0black tongue of the road.<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

As we depart from Dunoon, the waves hurl around us.
\n<\/span><\/span><\/span>The dimmer switch of morning light gradually brightens,
\n<\/span>small flashes of a distant shore
\n<\/span><\/span><\/span>\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 break through the rain-haze.
\n<\/span><\/span><\/span>Before long the boat shudders as we turn
\n<\/span><\/span><\/span>into Gourock.<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

The waves are calmer now
\n<\/span><\/span><\/span>and moving away from us
\n<\/span><\/span><\/span>like the concentric circles of a thrown stone.
\n<\/span><\/span><\/span>But still I carry the gales, the rain
\n<\/span><\/span><\/span>around inside of me as we draw into the pier;<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

though the waves are gentle now,
\n<\/span><\/span><\/span>moving like a multitude of pigeons
\n<\/span><\/span><\/span>\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0feeding together.<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Glasgow Nights The city falls in bursts of light around me. I am falling too. Life in the shape of cars float across the Kingston Bridge. Inside each car, the drivers daydream. Hand on wheel, foot on pedal, driving into the sky; faces calm as mannequins. The bridge simply carries them. She is obedient and […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":149,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_is_tweetstorm":false,"jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":true,"jetpack_social_options":[]},"categories":[394,395],"tags":[398],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"yoast_head":"\n2 Poems - The Manchester Review<\/title>\n<meta name=\"robots\" content=\"index, follow, max-snippet:-1, max-image-preview:large, max-video-preview:-1\" \/>\n<link rel=\"canonical\" href=\"http:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/?p=11426\" \/>\n<link rel=\"next\" href=\"http:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/?p=11426&page=2\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:locale\" content=\"en_US\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:type\" content=\"article\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:title\" content=\"2 Poems - The Manchester Review\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:description\" content=\"Glasgow Nights The city falls in bursts of light around me. I am falling too. Life in the shape of cars float across the Kingston Bridge. Inside each car, the drivers daydream. Hand on wheel, foot on pedal, driving into the sky; faces calm as mannequins. The bridge simply carries them. She is obedient and […]\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:url\" content=\"http:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/?p=11426\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:site_name\" content=\"The Manchester Review\" \/>\n<meta property=\"article:published_time\" content=\"2020-07-28T07:48:23+00:00\" \/>\n<meta property=\"article:modified_time\" content=\"2020-07-29T10:21:20+00:00\" \/>\n<meta name=\"author\" content=\"Marion McCready\" \/>\n<meta name=\"twitter:label1\" content=\"Written by\" \/>\n\t<meta name=\"twitter:data1\" content=\"Marion McCready\" \/>\n\t<meta name=\"twitter:label2\" content=\"Est. reading time\" \/>\n\t<meta name=\"twitter:data2\" content=\"2 minutes\" \/>\n<script type=\"application\/ld+json\" class=\"yoast-schema-graph\">{\"@context\":\"https:\/\/schema.org\",\"@graph\":[{\"@type\":\"WebPage\",\"@id\":\"http:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/?p=11426\",\"url\":\"http:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/?p=11426\",\"name\":\"2 Poems - The Manchester Review\",\"isPartOf\":{\"@id\":\"http:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/#website\"},\"datePublished\":\"2020-07-28T07:48:23+00:00\",\"dateModified\":\"2020-07-29T10:21:20+00:00\",\"author\":{\"@id\":\"http:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/#\/schema\/person\/f3456b6da75b02931a09f3c77371680c\"},\"inLanguage\":\"en-US\",\"potentialAction\":[{\"@type\":\"ReadAction\",\"target\":[\"http:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/?p=11426\"]}]},{\"@type\":\"WebSite\",\"@id\":\"http:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/#website\",\"url\":\"http:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/\",\"name\":\"The Manchester Review\",\"description\":\"The Manchester Review\",\"potentialAction\":[{\"@type\":\"SearchAction\",\"target\":{\"@type\":\"EntryPoint\",\"urlTemplate\":\"http:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/?s={search_term_string}\"},\"query-input\":\"required name=search_term_string\"}],\"inLanguage\":\"en-US\"},{\"@type\":\"Person\",\"@id\":\"http:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/#\/schema\/person\/f3456b6da75b02931a09f3c77371680c\",\"name\":\"Marion McCready\",\"image\":{\"@type\":\"ImageObject\",\"inLanguage\":\"en-US\",\"@id\":\"http:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/#\/schema\/person\/image\/\",\"url\":\"https:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/wp-includes\/images\/blank.gif\",\"contentUrl\":\"https:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/wp-includes\/images\/blank.gif\",\"caption\":\"Marion McCready\"},\"description\":\"Marion McCready lives in Dunoon, Argyll. Her poems have been published widely including in Poetry, Edinburgh Review and the Glasgow Herald. She won a Scottish Book Trust New Writers Award in 2013 and the Melita Hume Poetry Prize for her first full-length collection Tree Language published by Eyewear Publishing in 2014. Her second collection Madame Ecosse was published in 2017 also by Eyewear Publishing.\",\"url\":\"https:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/?author=149\"}]}<\/script>\n<!-- \/ Yoast SEO plugin. -->","yoast_head_json":{"title":"2 Poems - The Manchester Review","robots":{"index":"index","follow":"follow","max-snippet":"max-snippet:-1","max-image-preview":"max-image-preview:large","max-video-preview":"max-video-preview:-1"},"canonical":"http:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/?p=11426","next":"http:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/?p=11426&page=2","og_locale":"en_US","og_type":"article","og_title":"2 Poems - The Manchester Review","og_description":"Glasgow Nights The city falls in bursts of light around me. 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