PEASOUP
Fog is a cloud that has lost the will to fly.
Bill Bryson
After the downpour - a peasouper.
Fog so thick it is like glaucoma. The spirits
are said to be let loose in such a fog as this.
I wanted to go to the centre of the oval
where even the dark silhouette
of the treeline disappears and you
can imagine the world evaporated.
Out there I found a bunch
of cricketers camouflaged in the mist
waiting for their blindness to lift
and the contest to resume. It felt distinctly odd
meeting them like steamed ghosts,
part cloud, part will’o’th’wisp standing
with the drowned worms in the grass.
- Mark O'Flynn 2007
Mark O'Flynn is a widely-acclaimed poet, novelist and playright who has just returned from a three month writing residency in Ireland. He has had seven plays produced, published a novella and three books of poetry. His novel "Grassdogs" was released last year through HarperCollins and his third book of poetry "What Can Be Proven" was released last week through Interactive Press. He also has the dubious of honour of being my neighbour.
A very enjoyable poem, Mark, and a pleasure to read. I like the development in the last strophe, with the cricketers: it gives a unique slant on the situation and wakens me up.
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