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Donal Mahoney

Intermission

Warm, wet, wrapped
in each other's
arms, legs,
still for a moment,
we rest,
a spider spent,
trapped in its web.

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Recluse at Coney

how does one handle
nude on the beach
extremities starfished
almost asleep
how does one handle
the talons, the beaks

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From the Forest

In another moment
it will all be over.
On this winter night
her breast will slip
from her blouse
like a fawn, in spring,
from the forest.

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Summer Eve

Her lips?
As I recall,
even when she talked
her lips were slung
in a sundown surl
and there was liquor,
always liquor,
just a jigger,
in her walk.

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Short-Pants Potentate

Inferno of a summer day
Mother's dozing

Tommy, tiny, three,
paring knife in hand

tiptoes out, flops
short-pants potentate

upon the sidewalk sunny,
operates on ants

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Two Mutes In The Press Room

The two mutes we hired
to wheel hot type
are bickering again

Their fingers
quicker than beaks of cocks
tear the air

with perfect curses
tongues never utter
ears never hear

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The Lettuce Workers

Somewhere in California
a midnight one-eyed bus shoots

lettuce farm past lettuce farm
to abutment and a kiss.
Now the morning papers cry

15 sleeping Mexicans
glowed an hour or more.

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The Foyer of the Heart

In the center there's
a hollow
small, enclosed,
oval like a locket
called the foyer
of the heart.

There the bullets
carom while
the widow,
room to room,
hunts her man
around the house

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Collateral Damage

For the entire office
a death like his

coming as it has
the day before

Thanksgiving
complicates the holiday

for everyone. It makes
things difficult

for all: the wake
the other matters.

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Serial Killer

The puma of the will
has pounced again

This time, a doe
too slow through snow

The fangs are in
The kill's the will's

The stomach roars
as it devours

the blood and gristle
in its lair

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