Twin Girls, 1948
Beth was always different
marching as she did
to an armless drummer.
Her sister Kate marched
to another drummer,
one with arms on certain days
but never with a drum
that caught the sticks Kate
kept in the air flailing.
When the girls were young
their mom and dad took them out
for walks on Sunday
afternoons in summer.
The girls waved to butterflies
but never to anyone else.
It was hard for other kids
peering from porches
to understand the problem.
When the twins were small
they didn't call it autism.
It had no name on my block.
Now the illness has a name
and different medications
that sometimes temper
but never cure.
The girls are women now
old and living in a big home
with others in a small band
some still playing instruments
no one else can see.
Amid the Silence of Imams
Carnage rolls
across the sand
amid the silence
of imams
Women raped,
children killed,
amid the silence
of imams
What will it take
to stop the carnage
amid the silence
of imams
Dead Brother’s Note to Our Dad
Dad, happy to see
you’re taking a nap.
I’m down at the pier
so give me a shout
when you wake up
and I’ll come running.
The fishing’s been great--
three coolers of pike
iced in the trunk.
You always tell Mom
before we leave
you won’t be drinking
and she lets Tim and me
go with you but
you drink all day
here at the lake.
I'll get my license next year
so things will be different.
I'll drive back at night so
you can nap in the car.
I’ll keep the radio off
so you won’t wake up.
It’s always good
to see Mom.
Donal Mahoney lives in St. Louis, Missouri.
No comments:
Post a Comment