Dónall Dempsey Poems

I wait for your call.

The unwatched kettle boils
itself dry
...

I explain
the difference

(“Children, are you listening! ”)
...

You threw
open the shutters

& the sunlight
...

She January's me.
I July her.

She Monday's me.
...

Lipstick
on a coffee cup

an ashtray
...

The heating is gone
- again.

Startling us
...

Don’t know...

must have been
out of my head
...

She, the natural
born dancer.

I, who
...

Awkwardly quiet.
We sit tight.

Not talking.
...

“You’ve got
a waterbed? ”

(always said
...