DONAL MAHONEY - POEMS

Donal Mahoney, a native of Chicago, lives in St. Louis, Missouri. He has worked as an editor for The Chicago Sun-Times, Loyola University Press and Washington University in St. Louis. His fiction and poetry have appeared in various publications, including The Wisconsin Review, The Kansas Quarterly, The South Carolina Review, The Christian Science Monitor, Commonweal, Guwahatian Magazine (India), The Galway Review (Ireland), Public Republic (Bulgaria), The Osprey Review (Wales), The Istanbul Literary Review (Turkey) and other magazines. Some of his work can be found at http://eyeonlifemag.com/the-poetry-locksmith/donal-mahoney-poet.html#sthash.OSYzpgmQ.dpbs

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               A Limp Others Can’t See


The old man
crossing the street
has a bad limp 

we try to ignore.
No one wants to look 
at a limp like that.

We like to think
no one else can see
the limp we have

the limp we earned
by ignoring little people
who get in our way

who strike us as
the litter of life we
want swept away.



                                     Epitome of Grace



They are a certain way
certain ladies are today
no matter where they are

summer, fall
winter, spring even  
waiting for a bus in rain

to clean hotel rooms
an hour away
epitome of grace



                         Alice’s House 


Redbud and dogwood have blossomed
above the tulips and jonquils where
Alice's house used to be.

A possum and raccoon nose around 
where the garage was before the tornado. 
An armadillo has joined them.

Someone has hung a red feeder from
the old clothesline. No hummingbirds yet.
Spring has brought new life over there. 



                         A Family Thing



Someone broke in the house
the weekend the elderly couple was 
out of town, a family thing. 

The TV, the couch and 
computer were gone.
Someone took everything. 
Even the silverware,
tables and chairs.

The couple had everything   
insured except for the new
photos of their daughter.
They were in the computer 
emailed by their son last week.

Kate was all smiles in the photos
and the couple wanted to have them 
printed and framed and hung
on the living room wall
above the fireplace.

The weekend of the robbery
the elderly couple was out of town
at her funeral, a family thing.



                          Nitwits Like You
 

She was old already
when you had her in 8th grade
and she said you should sit
in the first seat third row
right in front of her for
the rest of the year.

That was half of your sentence 
for getting caught rolling 
marbles down the aisle
and disturbing the class.

She gave you a choice about
the rest of your sentence.
You could diagram 30 sentences 
a night for the rest of the year.
Or she could call your father 
and tell him what happened.
Diagramming sounded 
very good to you.

Ten years later you finished 
a master’s in English and 
wanted to thank this nun 
who had turned a gutter ball 
into a strike but she was 
no longer at the school.

Another nun told you she was 
in a rest home out of state
and you couldn’t call her or visit.
You could write but you shouldn't
expect an answer.
She was not doing well.

Turning gutter balls into strikes
for more than 30 years
with nitwits like you
had taken its toll.