Stephen Byrne is an Irish chef and writer currently living in Chicago. His first collection ‘Somewhere but not Here’ won the RL Poetry Award, 2016 International category. He has been published worldwide in places such as Warscapes, Indian Review, Tuck Magazine, Poetry Bus, Boyne Berries, RædLeafPoetry-India, The Original Van Gogh’s Ear Anthology and many others. He is the food writer for ‘This is Galway’ website.

Disco Ball

i.m Mags Berry

She dances
dances with her eyes shut tight

She dances beneath a disco ball
her hands swinging like curtains in the wind

She dances
in the reflections of our eyes

She dances in the shadow of moonlight

She dances in the fabric of her raspberry beret
She dances in the soles of our feet

She dances in the tingles of our skin
She dances brushing the sides of our thighs

She dances in the room of her head
where the walls dance too

She dances digging nails into her face
outside on a dark night alone

She dances ripping out her hair
She dances tearing of her clothes

She dances for help to step out of the cold
She dances when no one else will dance too

She dances beneath a disco ball,
her hair her face her lipstick her beret

She dances her hands down by her side
in the dark she moves like water

She dances
in the reflections of our eyes

She dances
dances with her eyes shut tight

Listen & You Can Hear it in the Storm

She comes
on the same night
of the storm
on the same night
you decide to drink
in the company of others
she comes
like the farthest lightning slap
you can hear in the distance
she comes
the night sky a blink
of light, a slash of a silver
scythe, slicing the sky
she comes out of the bar
her eyes two stars flickering
yours oh yours
the roar of the thunder fist
punches you in the face
slaps the butterflies
raging around your gut
she comes
as lightning paints
the night white for a moment
for a moment
you are lost
for a moment you smell
the coming rain & her perfume
her perfume she comes to say hello
& if you listen closely, listen to
the tap dancing of the rain
if you listen
you can hear it in the storm
in the raging after clap
you can hear it
the echo of two people
ripping the night in two

*The Galway Review 6 – Printed Edition, April 2018