Night
Light
The last visitor before I sleep
is
always the old priest
puffing
up the stairs to my door,
a wine
cask under each arm,
a loaf
of pumpernickel in his teeth.
He’s
always too late to give the last rites,
and even
though I’m usually dead by then,
it falls
to me to console him.
So I
say, “Father, Father,
you
don’t have to hurry.
Faith is
no longer a klieg.
It’s a
night light left burning all day,
and its
bulb is hissing.”
Appeared
in print in Commonweal
Magazine
November 6, 2009
475 Riverside
Drive, Room 405
New York, NY
10115
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Nominated for Best of the Net and Pushcart prizes, Donal Mahoney has had work published in a variety of print and electronic publications in North America, Europe, Asia and Africa.
Some of his earliest work can be found at http://booksonblog12.
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