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Sunday, May 8, 2016

Three Poems By Donal Mahoney

Old Romeo Puts His Bible Down

Almost toothless now,
old Romeo puts his Bible down, 
relaxes in his rocker,
pours brandy in his snifter 
and scribbles in his ledger 
memories of Mary,
dead some 40 years now. 

When Romeo was young
and dark and dashing, Mary 
was the perfect foil.
He can see her dancing 
and hear her laugh, a note 
no mockingbird would try.
He tells his chauffeur,

"Bring the car around. 
I need to buy a diving board 
for the swimming pool. 
The doctor says I'm terminal. 
Six months, he says. 
I want to dive in Mary's eyes
tonight and drown."


Donal Mahoney



Prayer for the Priests of Mexico City

July in the streets
of Mexico City:
One of the women
one never would marry.
One of the women one sees
for an hour, for an evening.
Taco, tequila,
tequila with lemon.
Christ keep the priests
of Mexico City.


Donal Mahoney



Old Man At The Diner

He slaughters his hamburger steak
with a fork and a butter knife,
massacres ringlets of onions
again and again

thumps catsup all over
the bloody commingling,
then ever so slowly
peppers and salts

and reminds me of Hrebic,
whose wife, back
on the block of my youth,
sat all summer out on her stoop,

knees awry, one eye black,
the other turning gray,
sunning the great white hydrants
of her phlebitic legs.


Donal Mahoney

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