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Poetry
by Donal Mahony
Father's
Day
In this house
even the bathroom's
a place of no peace.
I huddle there Sundays
enthroned with whatever
they've left of the paper.
Off the door, the great blitz:
rubber balls, little fists,
soles of bare feet.
Unamused, still perusing,
I sit there refusing
to vacate my sanctum.
Blitz your bare feet!
top
On
Taking Secretaries To Lunch
If you live in the valley
know the lava above
has the tact of Comanche
demeanor of dove
Hoe furrow
don't sprinkle
your seed
then enwire
Post sentry
tall criers
Go home
to your love
top
Gift,
with a Note, for My Wife
If the women
I go to work with,
and in the car pool
travel home with,
if they can wrap themselves
the way they do,
then I suggest that you,
if only to protect us, dear,
then I suggest that you
wear one of these
those evenings
we are idle.
top
The
Foyer Of The Heart
In the center there's
a hollow
small, enclosed,
oval like a locket
called the foyer
of the heart.
There the bullets
carom while
the widow,
room to room,
hunts her man
around the house.
top
Donal Mahoney, a native of
Chicago, lives in St. Louis, Missouri, U.S.A. He has worked as
an editor for The Chicago Sun-Times, Loyola University Press
and Washington University in St. Louis. He has had poems published
in or accepted by The Wisconsin Review, The Kansas Quarterly,
The South Carolina Review, Commonweal, Snakeskin (U.K.), Revival
(Ireland), The Christian Science Monitor, The Istanbul Literary
Review (Turkey), Haggard and Halloo, Poetry Super Highway, Public
Republic (Bulgaria) and other publications.
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