Ice House Seals

A gang of them know where to hang
below the storage house and fish shop at the end
of the Coal Harbour Pier (between fishing boats
 
and a wind-chiming thicket of yachts). They rise
for dangled fish-scraps, bringing us coal-dark
unsurprisable eyes, the roll
 
of scarred industrial bodies at home
in the open-plan house we climbed from and may yet
be repossessed by. 


(a poem of mine from Taking The Plunge, an anthology of writing from Dún Laoghaire, for which I also contributed the cover photo: an older blip of the seal-gang in 2010).