Fresh, Tinned or Frozen
Father was a snap bean,
that's all, Sis,
nothing more.
Fresh, tinned or frozen,
the greens of snap beans vary.
Neighbors in the yard,
clerks at the store,
folks at church,
you and me and bawling Ma,
for years we fed his strange chameleons
so we can swear, on the Bible,
Father was a snap bean,
that's all, Sis.
Nothing more.
Fresh, tinned or frozen.
poem by Donal Mahoney
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Dawn Tomorrow
Another letter may come today
from the same editor at Poetry Paradise
telling me he'll pass on the poems
I sent a year ago because
they aren't a good fit for his pages.
But this time, he says, he'll give my poems
to his brother, the skywriter,
who will emblazon them in snow
against a sky so blue
millions of people will love them
almost as much as I do.
poem by Donal Mahoney
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Bernie the Con Man
Bernie the Con Man swears
he's on the straight and narrow
but he scoots when he walks,
whispers when he talks,
and people still believe him.
Maybe you can tell me if
he's always been this way.
He tries to tell the truth
but honesty evades him.
He's always on the move
like the silverfish I saw
darting in the shower,
dodging every stomp,
another Fred Astaire.
poem by Donal Mahoney
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Women Who Walk Like Men
They seem to be everywhere now,
women who walk like men.
With hair cropped in a paint brush,
bullets for eyes and knives for noses,
they walk long halls, hips so still
they can have no pelvis.
Then one day you meet one
and become her friend.
A week later you still wonder:
Are all the women who walk like men
wildflowers, really,
locked in a hothouse,
craving the sun?
poem by Donal Mahoney
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Seeking the Sweetbreads
How many times have I said
I'm through teasing myself,
through pretending
I don't enjoy
the wreath of a woman
warm around me.
How many times have I said
I'll go out on the streets,
as I have in the past,
in cummerbund and sash,
top hat and cane,
a one-man parade
with bugle and drum,
seeking the sweetbreads
served there all day,
fresh off the brazier,
medium rare.
poem by Donal Mahoney
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Diamond of Jello
From my stool in the diner I watch
the old woman with elm tree arms
command the big booth in back
and roar for a menu,
take a half hour to read it
before placing her order.
Watching her eat, I realize
life for her is a dollop of whip cream,
a twirling ballerina, on a diamond of Jello.
I raise my water glass
in a silent toast. Bravo, I whisper.
I wish her good cheer.
poem by Donal Mahoney
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Waggle and Jounce
Out on the lake
the whitecaps leap,
old lions shot in midair.
Not far from the water
I sit on a knoll
and open your letter.
You're in Sacramento now
singing for money.
Here in Chicago,
on hot August nights,
I lick in my dreams
at the scoops
in your shoulders.
I prefer them to ice cream.
In a week I'll fly out
and salute your nipples.
Long may your buttocks
waggle and jounce.
poem by Donal Mahoney
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Wooden Anniversary
She uncradles the phone with a lyric
for someone who might be calling
if I weren't calling again from work,
who would be calling, she says,
if five years ago I hadn't
promised her me.
Five years ago she believed me
and now she has children, four,
a house, my calls each noon.
Five years ago she lied to herself
as I napped on her parents' porch,
silent yet screaming the truth.
poem by Donal Mahoney
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Three Girls Of Spring
In this college town
three girls of Spring are fresh bread
brown before the noon of May.
In pink and yellow frocks,
with hair unfurling in the breeze,
they laugh and glisten in the sun
and like good daughters wave
to the old professor on a bench
who's waiting for the end of day.
He waves back and smiles his best,
knowing girls like these, once close,
now wander many miles away.
poem by Donal Mahoney
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Whinny and Spit
When a man's young,
this work is hard
but it pays well
and he can feed
the wife and kids.
In the morning
he throws crates off trucks,
and after lunch
throws crates again
till five or six o'clock.
But as he grows older,
and some say
ready to retire,
he has to stop
in the late afternoon,
mount his throne of skids,
let his legs drip over the side,
toss his head, inhale,
whinny and spit.
poem by Donal Mahoney
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