Donal Mahoney- Three Poems

 

Long-Term Unemployed

Before he's had his morning coffee

he puts a silencer on the pistol,

goes from room to room, puts 

a bullet in the head of those

sleeping in their beds, takes 

a drive in the country and calls 

his neighbor Walt and asks him 

to check on Martha and the kids.

He’s at their country home, he says,

closing it up for the winter,

something he does every year

the weekend before Halloween.

He tells Walt that Martha and the kids

should be home from church by now

but no one's answering the phone.

Splash

Two black cats

come over the fence

this morning 

circle each other 

all over the yard

hissing and leaping 

into a ball 

rolling like sagebrush

into the pool.

I fish them out 

with a trout net.

Two wet mops 

lie 

in silence 

drying on the lawn.

They Don’t Know I’m Listening

So here I am, all decked out

in a new suit from Brooks Brothers,

haberdasher to corporate stars.

My wife just got here, rattled.

The kids have been here for hours, 

flying in for the occasion.

My wife will make certain  

I look as spiffy as possible. 

The oldest boy just told her

a neighbor has agreed

to cut the grass, rake the leaves 

and shovel the snow, chores 

I performed for decades in return 

for a mug of coffee and wedge of pie.

Now my wife is asking the undertaker  

to puff out my tie, something she did 

before I’d go to the office, armed 

with a thermos and brown paper bag.

Donal Mahoney lives in St. Louis, Missouri.