Originally from Belfast, Miriam Gamble moved to Scotland in 2010 and lectures in creative writing at the University of Edinburgh. Her first collection, The Squirrels Are Dead, was published by Bloodaxe in 2010 and won a Somerset Maugham Award; her most recent book is Pirate Music (Bloodaxe, 2014). She has also received an Eric Gregory Award, the Ireland Chair of Poetry Bursary Award and the Vincent Buckley Poetry Prize. Her third collection is creeping slowly towards completion.
Something changed when I wasn’t looking:
gies and cannae came like moths to test their wings
on the filament of my tongue;
when we moved we discovered small moths
had been steadily eating through my fabrics.
And although you, chivalric with the Dyson,
like an anteater manfully sucked them up,
they slipped the plastic bin.
There is one already in the ottoman
mustering fresh reserves, battening upon my tights.
Grain locusts of my heart, my ding an sich!
In your painting of the Old Man of Storr
the diaphanous scrim of my breasts overlays him.
I am hovering in stonewash blue, I am stamped
on the image like a pale moth on a pale tree,
a white crow on a field of white, or nearly.
From City of Two Suns by Miriam Gamble and Nerys Williams (Irish Writers Centre, 2016)