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Steve Wilson

Returning to Slea Head

Halfway round Dingle Peninsula rises dramatic Slea Head. The narrow coastal road hugs the cliffs, makes a sharp turn, and continues on through the amazing green landscape.

Rumbling precariously along that road, our coach driver, Martin, playfully warns the students we might fall off the cliff at any moment. We’re nearing the end of our Ireland study abroad trip, so my wife and I ask Martin to stop and let our students photograph the stark, roiling Atlantic; the distant Blasket Islands; the gulls buffeted by the churning, cold winds. Last pictures. Last glances across the steel-gray surge.

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A Cascading, it is

to watch his memory falter,
               fail. Light fades and falls. Dark
to watch his memory falter –
                             Cans of beans: gone. Toothpaste.
                             A shoe, bills, a sister –
to watch his memory falter,
fail. Light fades, and falls dark.

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