Donal Mahoney

An Eighth Of A Lemon - Poem by Donal Mahoney

For Martha in the early years
life was recess, nothing more.
She knelt on asphalt,
quartered oranges for kittens

who never lost stringed mittens,
whose London Bridges
never fell down.
For Martha now,

life's Parkview Manor
where a woman in white,
three times a day, bleeds
an eighth of a lemon into her tea.

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Comments about An Eighth Of A Lemon by Donal Mahoney

  • Wes Vogler (1/19/2016 7:49:00 PM)

    Well I tried, Donal. Is everything you write this disjointed? What would you call the form? doggerel? free verse (shudder) I really would like to know. (Report) Reply

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Poem Submitted: Sunday, November 4, 2012

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