Showing posts with label Donal Mahoney. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Donal Mahoney. Show all posts

Monday, December 26, 2011

QUINCY, ILLINOIS:1962

     long before Barack Obama

In 1962 my father toiled in Quincy,
two weeks, no more,
and saw no blacks except for
two young ladies
who moved like swans
bussing dishes
in a farmer's cafeteria.

Daisy badges on their uniforms
announced their names,
their years of service.

He still remembers how
throughout his meal
he wanted to stand,
a stranger in a
seersucker suit,
and shout:

"How can you live here?
Where, except in church,
can you clap your hands
in emancipation?"


About Donal Mahoney:
Donal Mahoney has had poems published in The Montucky Review and other publications in the United States, Europe, Asia and Africa.

Monday, September 19, 2011

THE COPYREADER

I have been here a month,
sitting in a circle with others,
reading copy and writing heads.
Today I'm convinced
crime in the streets
will never stop
as long as
someone can write
and someone can read.
I spell "ukulele" for Ulrich
and a strange continent of sweat
breaks out
on the back of my shirt.
"It's as big as Australia,"
says Ulrich.
At that moment I know
I'm letting another July
die in Chicago,
reading copy and writing heads.

About Donal Mahoney:

Donal Mahoney has had poetry published in The Montucky Review and other publications in North America, Europe, Asia and Africa.

Friday, June 24, 2011

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.
 
About Donal Mahoney:
Donal Mahoney has had poems published in The Montucky Review and other publications in North America, Europe, Asia and Africa.

Saturday, June 18, 2011

From The Forest


In another moment
it will all be over.

On this winter night
your breast will slip
from your blouse
like a fawn, in spring,
from the forest.

About Donal Mahoney:
Donal Mahoney, an immigrant from Chicago, lives in St. Louis, Missouri. He has had poems published in a variety of publications in North America, Europe, Asia and Africa.