—Poems by Donal Mahoney, St. Louis, MO
—Photos by Katy Brown, Davis, CA
A SONG IN HER VALLEY
When he saw her in heels
he said she’s the one so
he said his “I do,” never to
climb a different mountain.
That night he began
at her ankles, climbed
seams in her stockings,
moved over her hips
and circled her waist,
strolled up her spine and
stood on her shoulders,
took a deep breath and
rappelled to the smile
he saw on her breasts.
Many years later his life
is a song in her valley.
_____________________
SIR REAL
Brett and Amanda were
in the same wedding party.
He was best man,
bronze and handsome.
She was maid of honor,
porcelain and beautiful.
They had a wonderful day
and danced all night
at the reception, met
after work every night
for the next two weeks,
finally told her parents
they were going to elope,
obtained a marriage license,
arranged a honeymoon
in Paris and London,
bought plane tickets,
packed their bags
and were on their way to
the justice of the peace
for a fast wedding
when Amanda asked
if there was anything
she could do for Brett
once they were wed
and Brett said there was:
She could applaud when
he walked into a room,
smile and curtsy, speak
only when spoken to.
His first two wives
had failed to do that
and those marriages
had ended quickly.
He hoped she understood.
ANOTHER SPRING
I heard from Harold
this morning, someone
older than I am, the two of us
in winter staring at another spring
someone I haven’t seen in 50 years,
side by side in cubicles again
making plans for lives
that might have been
waiting for the quitting bell
to say it’s 5 o’clock, time
to dunk our time cards,
hop the trolley and go home.
_____________________
THE GIRLS IN STENO, 1970
When it’s break time
the girls all walk together,
cigarette-protector cases
clasped between their index
tapers and their thumbs.
On each girl’s fingers glow
iridescent lacquers.
When break time nears,
they peek at each other,
twinkle, giggle, nod.
When break time comes,
a bell rings and the girls rise
like Lazarus. High on heels
they click in couples down the hall
to fill an elevator.
They get off at One. There
they float across the cafeteria,
men everywhere,
eyes everywhere.
(Is he the one?)
When a new girl’s hired
the old girls
put her to the test:
Will she join them
for the coffee break?
If she does, she joins them forever,
even after she marries,
retires or expires.
WHEN CARBON PAPER WAS KING
All the rest are dead
except for Joe and Ed,
both ill and long retired.
They linger miles apart,
keep in touch by email,
a tool colleagues didn’t have
when they and Joe and Ed
used telephones and typewriters
to get a magazine out on time,
their hands always in a dither
with carbon paper, paste pots,
pica sticks and galleys.
Every month the magazine
came out on time, glistening.
Now many years retired,
Joe and Ed wonder by email,
Gosh and Golly Gee, how
did they do it without computers.
Colleagues have no answer.
Except for Joe and Ed
all the rest are dead.
_____________________
THE CANYON DWELLERS
There’s this canyon
between two cliffs
and Tim Boyd has a foot
planted on each cliff.
He’s spread-eagled
but very steady.
He's been stretched
over the canyon since
he got back from Iraq.
After he took his position,
he thought someone
would eventually look up.
There are others
spread over the canyon
in front of Tim.
They’ve been there
since Viet Nam and
getting a bit wobbly.
In back of Tim
are the new arrivals
spread-eagled as well.
They’re fresh from
Afghanistan and they're
getting their feet set.
The rest of us below
have jobs and are busy
with families and lives.
When a canyon dweller falls
and makes a terrible mess,
we find the time to look up.
I-Beams
AN EASTER RISING
Poetry by priests?
Who gives it more than mock attention?
We read their poems, yes,
author first, then the title,
finally the verse itself.
Not much, except for Hopkins.
We wait for Rome, you see,
to give us in addition to its saints
one more decent poet.
A sot once said
“When things get bad enough,
you will see a Celt,
armed with a quiver of poems,
ride flaming out of the hills,
soaring over the lakes,
wearing a rainbow for a Roman collar.”
Things are bad enough right now by half.
We need to hear his gallop soon.
_____________________
ANSWER NOW
I was just a boy
but I remember Hitler
at the start
and how too few
understood his plan to
do away with Jews.
I’m a codger now
certain that too few
understand ISIS
so let the word go forth
for all with eyes to see
and ears to hear:
We have another genocide,
this one more inclusive.
We must answer now
or else Christians, Jews
and Muslims too will keep
dying in the sand.
_____________________
Today's LittleNip:
DAYDREAM
Down the patio walk,
white stones, through the garden,
under the trellis toward me
yellow frock, yellow hair
rising and falling
I lie in my lawn chair,
spoon honeydew sherbet, sip
pink ade from a tall glass,
cubes circling
She is almost upon me
I look up and I tell her
I have sand, sea, skies, laughs,
all paid for and nothing
nothing at all to do.
____________________
—Medusa, with many thanks to today's contributors!
