Sunday, November 9, 2014

Donal Mahoney- Two Poems

An ISIS Nursery Rhyme

Listen, young lady,
this is the man 

who will cut off your legs
and this is the man 

who will cut off your arms
and this is the man

who will cut off your head
if you fail to tell us where  

your parents hid the gold.
Had we known about the gold,

they’d be here, not over there
in chunks, baking in the sun.

All Aboard

Next to me on the train
going home to the suburbs
is another guy stuck in a suit 
reading his paper,
a normal-looking guy
who suddenly says
it’s terrible, what’s happening
in Syria and Iraq, 
terrorists killing people.

Then he says if he believed 
what the terrorists believe
he wouldn’t care either 
whether he died in battle.
If 77 virgins were waiting for him,
he’d be happy to die
a martyr for the cause,
but since he’s an atheist
he knows no one is waiting.  

Then he looks at me 
and asks if I'm a believer.
I’m a lot bigger than he is 
so I say I’m a Catholic,
and he says if he believed
what Catholics believe
that Jesus Christ,
the Son of God, is in a wafer
waiting in that little house 
in the middle of the altar--
he wouldn’t walk into church,
he would crawl up the aisle 
every Sunday and lie there,
face down, praying.
He asks if I get his drift, 
shaking his paper.

I say I certainly do, but 
Catholics know what they have
and don’t like making a scene.
It’s in their genes from the time
they spent in the catacombs
praying not to be killed.

He says he understands
the importance of propriety
but says if Christ is God 
and is on that altar, how can 
Catholics just sit there,
mannequins in a pew,
standing and kneeling 
once in awhile to avoid 
clots in their legs.
I agree that’s a good question.

Finally he yells,
loud enough for all to hear:
For Christ’s sake, 
the next time you go to church,
act like he’s there
and do something!
He shakes his paper again. 

The train rolls on 
and there’s a loud moment of silence.
The man has a point, I say to myself.
Finally I say I’ve enjoyed talking
and have learned a lot
but the next stop is mine.
I have to get off.

Donal Mahoney lives in St. Louis, Missouri.

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