Saturday, November 16, 2013

Donal Mahoney- Three Poems

Homemade Cookies and Gin

She's always been a caution,
Aunt Matilda has, 
what with her passion 

for the young man 
she lured home with 
homemade cookies 

and gin to mow
her spacious lawn
this summer afternoon

in the oven of 3 p.m.
She watches Jack
through the curtain

of her picture window
as his sweat drips
in rivulets 

like Uncle Tim's.
Tim's been dead 
twenty years now

but Aunt Matilda
sees him mowing 
through the curtain

as she sips warm gin.
She keeps his martini 
in his jelly glass.

She needs ice,
a pat on her fanny, 
a grin from Uncle Tim.

The End Is Near

The streets are clear, 
Gramps admits,
but the intersections 

are a problem.
The intersections
of his knees and hips   

scream about the years 
they've had to tote 
the silo of his torso.

His joyful pastor
every Sunday screams,
"The End is Near!" 

and Gramps agrees 
although he prays 
a diet might delay it.

Vertigo with a Touch of Syncope

I look in the mirror
 and I'm not there.
Where did I go? I don't know 
so I look around and see my wife 
with the dogs and kids. 
Not one of them sees me. 
Recliner's empty. So's the bed.
I must be somewhere; I always am.
Barber claims he saw me yesterday
and I won't need another trim 
for a month or more.
Dentist says I have no teeth to fix,
that I should keep gummin' it,
so why would I go there?
Maybe I'll call my sister who knows 
nothing about me now. 
We haven't talked in 20 years
When no one's in the mirror
they sometimes find me 
behind the couch chompin'
on a Dagwood sandwich
but this time it's different.
Where am I? Heaven? Hell? 
Somewhere in between?
I hear Hoagy on the piano
playing "Georgia on My Mind." 
Text me on a cloud 
if he plays "Stardust."
The drinks will be on me 
for everyone in the house.

Donal Mahoney lives in St. Louis, Missouri.

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