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.||Found In An Attic: World War Ii Letter To A Wife||6/6/2014|
|1488.||Just The Sheep And The Goats And The Shepherd||5/4/2014|
|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 ...
In Break Formation
The indications used to come
like movie fighter planes in break
formation, one by one, the perfect
plummet, down and out. This time they’re
slower. But after supper, when I hear her
in the kitchen hum again, hum higher,
higher, till my ears are numb,
I remember how it was
the last time: how she hummed