Donal Mahoney Poems
|1481.||Looking For Work||10/4/2012|
|1482.||My Therapist's A Lady||5/30/2013|
|1483.||Cops And Robbers||5/29/2014|
|1484.||The Farmer's Daughter||4/8/2013|
|1485.||A Good Neighbor||9/4/2013|
|1486.||Just The Sheep And The Goats And The Shepherd||5/4/2014|
|1487.||Found In An Attic: World War Ii Letter To A Wife||6/6/2014|
|1490.||Letter To An Estranged Middle-Aged Son||5/4/2014|
Comments about Donal Mahoney
Wilbur's always lived
in the navel of society,
lost in the lint
of the middle class.
His parents lived there too.
So will his children if they
fail to win the lottery.
Not a problem for Wilbur.
From his navel he can
see the poor sweat
at jobs they died for.
When he looks up
he can see the rich bet
on stocks and then relax
with wine and caviar.
That's the way the world works.
Wilbur's father told him
it's always been that way
and always will be.
And like his father
Wilbur knows the world
will always have ...
For years I've fed this feral cat at 4 a.m.,
a crouching mound of fur, Satanic black, with yellow eyes
that never blink. I call him 'Doubting Thomas.'
I place his can of Fancy Feast five feet or so from him.
He doesn't stir till I go in the house
and douse the porch light.
Then he leaps and cleans the can