Foggy brick streets
-red brick that is-
dredged from the bottom of a murky river
which has seen things sink
other didn’t want to be seen,
And who is she to tell until her sediment is exposed?
That red brick stands for time
And a life with little change
but big stories,
like the red faced girl after her first kiss on the street corner,
Or of gutters running red with an emotion exploded from one man into another who didn’t care
for who said what to who –
Or maybe he did,
but that’s besides the point,
if there is one.
The red of busy faces merging with the walls,
Or the red of angry faces merging into the walls and being soaked up,
Like the bandages around another man who came close to the wall,
But fell away with a lesson,
A wee scolding,
That if he ever did what he did again,
He’d see where those red bricks came from.
Alex Ghionis was born in Belfast in 1989 to a Northern Irish mother and a Greek father. He draws his influences from the poets of the North of Ireland, such as Ciarán Carson and Michael Longley. In 2008 he relocated to Brighton to study International Relations, and continues to write there. This poem was written on a red-eye flight from Belfast to London in 2010.