Michael Naghten Shanks
interrupts my favourite TV weatherman, mid-
sentence, folding him neatly
into his own shadow on the hot sand.
Death pleads with us lunchtime viewers—
Save the Goliath frog!
Like a flag planted in the sand, Death’s scythe
draws a drunk, plump, ham-toned man
to emerge from the throng
gathering to see what ice pops are for sale.
My kingdom for a Popsicle?
Death’s vexed voice stuns us—
Pity is too strong, but we feel something,
enough to pause from chewing
what are, we agree, truly delicious tomatoes.
Michael Naghten Shanks is a poet from Dublin. Twice shortlisted for Poem of the Year at the Irish Book Awards, he has had multiple poems longlisted for the National Poetry Competition and The London Magazine Poetry Prize. He received a Literature Bursary and Agility Award from the Arts Council.
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