Donal Mahoney- Three Poems

Two Flying Saucers

A flying saucer whirrs 

through the kitchen air

almost hits him in the head

flies out the open window

followed by another saucer

sailed at him by her 

angry that he's earthbound

can't take her to the moon

one more time tonight.

He's getting old, he tells her.

She should have come aboard

when he was 23 and flew

all night from star to star.

He ducks again and gasps,

"Once must now suffice."

No Bigger than a Pepper Flake

I could kill him but I won't. 

This tiny spider 

no bigger than a pepper flake

has spun a web so fine

I can't see the strands 

falling from a hook

near the basin where I shave.

He appears to levitate.

I could kill him but I won't.

He will be an inconvenience 

for my wife when she spots him 

but not an inconvenience

like the fetus in the womb 

of my daughter's friend next door.

She goes back to school this week. 

Both Sides Now 

I told my wife today

I won't leave the house again

except to feed feral cats that gather 

on our patio at dawn

to yowl for grub and water.

Otherwise I'll stay home except 

to go to church on Sunday.

At the very least I want to say hello.

The day I die, however, I'll go right

to Feldmann's Funeral Home.

I'll need a lift, of course, but 

I paid Feldmann's long ago 

to wake me on my stomach, 

pants pulled down around my knees 

so folks can read my new tattoos, 

one ablaze on each buttock,

easy to read in red calligraphy.

The left one screams "Kiss this" 

and the right one shouts "Or this."

I'm pro-choice, I guess, 

when it comes to this.

Donal Mahoney lives in St. Louis, Missouri.