Trevor Conway – Telephone Poles

ÀTrevor Conway, a Sligoman living in Galway since 2005, writes mainly poetry, fiction and songs. He has recorded an album of his songs, released in 2013. His work has appeared in magazines and anthologies across Ireland, Austria, India, the UK, the US and Mexico, where his poems have been translated into Spanish. These publications include ROPES, Decanto, Read This, Fusion, The Literary Yard, Cuadrivio, Periodico de Poesia, Poetic Expressions and Poetry Salzburg Review. Subjects he’s drawn to include nature, creativity, football and people/society, especially the odd ways in which we look at the world. In 2011, he was awarded a Galway City Council bursary. He is a contributing editor for The Galway Review, and his first collection of poems is forthcoming from Salmon Poetry. (See trevorconway.weebly.com)

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Telephone Poles

Forty miles an hour,
The line droops till the next hit –
A brief rise, full-bellied again.

The jaunty rhythm flattens to a blur
As you gather speed,
Each pole hammered
Quicker than the last,

Like needles threaded with molten mascara,
Some slack, some taut,
Standing askew,
Set with an eccentric touch.

Each seems like a bishop’s reminder
That someone once suffered for us,
Someone who never had to pass
Through the Tuam roadworks.

In the fog of email and Skype,
Only a few generations
Will know the purpose of these things
Rotting through grime-stubbled glass.

Crossing roads, trudging up
The sides of hills, they slouch
Like dole-queue scarecrows
Shouldering garrulous birds,

Lining each path,
Reminders, to some, that
There are still voices.

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