Monday, September 22, 2014

Donal Mahoney- Three Poems

Another Sunrise in His Day

Will I walk again,
Tillie mumbled,
lost in the fog of  

her knee operation.
The surgeon predicted 
she'd toss her cane away 

in two months.
Still in a fog, she asked 
if she'd walk the way

she walked before, 
with the same locomotion, 
as her husband called it, 

a walk he studied
through binoculars  
behind lace curtains

from the upstairs window
sitting in his wheelchair
as she strolled through 

the garden, picking a 
bouquet, creating another 
sunrise in his day.

A Grand Buffet

Maury's wife frets 
about growing old
withering up 

and sagging so 
it's up to Maury
to let her know 

every day she's 
a grand buffet
that he can't wait 

to see and sample.
Her appetizers are 
enticing, entrees 

perfectly prepared.
At his age though,
Maury has to pause.

He knows now
this will mean 
long nap later.

A Senior Citizen's First Email

Things are quiet here, a friend writes
in the first email of his long life:  

Most mornings I drive to Gillson Park,
sit and read beside the Lake.
The waves are a symphony.
Books are better there. Sometimes 
a redwing blackbird will attack, 
protecting its nest. The weather's  
cool and there's rain at night. 
It's not summer in Chicago 
as you and I remember it.

I have a cell phone now too 
and I use it all the time. 
The landline's just a holdover 
from the good old days.

Speaking of holdovers,
we should get together
while we still can.
At our age, who knows
how long either of us has.
People our age drop dead 
without too much ado.

Tell you what: Whoever gets sick first 
will notify the other one who'll take
a plane and race death to see 
who arrives at the bedside first.
If I'm talking to a priest, wait outside.

Forget the small stuff like amputations.
They have prosthetics now for everything 
except for tallywhackers.
Who needs more kids anyway. 
My wife will send you an email if I die. 
Ask your wife to do the same for me.

Donal Mahoney lives in St. Louis, Missouri.

No comments:

Post a Comment