Monday, July 13, 2015

Donal Mahoney- Two Poems

Woman in the Day Room Crying

Lightning bolts in childhood
can scar the soul forever.
They're a satanic baptism 
when the minister's your father,
mother, brother, sister,
anyone taller, screaming,
shooting flames from the sky
all day, all night.  

The years go by 
but the scars remain.
The pale moonlight of age 
makes them easier to see
and scratch until they burst
and bleed again,
another reason I wake up 
at night screaming.

When the daylight comes, 
I talk about the scars
when no one is around 
to say shut up! 
I draw the details in a mural
on the walls and ceilings so 
everyone can see the storms
that never left a rainbow.

Dangling Participles

Every time something breaks
like the pipe in the wall
we heard gushing

this morning
my wife wants to call
a repairman because 

I can’t fix anything
except split infinitives
and dangling participles

and I usually agree 
but this time 
I mention the kayaks 

in the attic and say 
why don’t we hop 
in the kayaks

open the front door
and sail down the street 
wave to the neighbors

cutting their grass 
planting their peonies
worrying about crime

and shout best of luck
we’re tired of the good life
we’re sailing away.

Donal Mahoney lives in St. Louis, Missouri.

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