Near North Side: Chicago
Where will the lovely lady go
on her diurnal walk?
One child in 30 years she bore,
now they do not talk.
Supple, firm, her lithe legs are,
young men wheel and gawk.
A husband left her money, though,
a poodle, too, to walk.
Straight in His Caneback Chair
Ireland to America, long ago
In this Kerrymanís eyes
you can still see
big ships sail
and lighthouses flicker
light years away.
Heís 70 today
and sits tombstone straight
in his caneback chair.
He waves at the flake
hanging from his nose,
misses and curses.
Itís his first curse of the day
and heís ready now for anything,
an ancient ram braced for the British
climbing through the mist.
His children, parents themselves now,
sit in his parlor, silent around him.
When they hear that first curse,
they know itís 20 years earlier
and Father is calling
a big meeting of the Family.
They shift in their chairs
as his eyes and his words
whiz around the room
like bees liquored up
looking for something to sink into.
Copyright © 2009 Donal
Donal Mahoney, a native of Chicago, lives in
St. Louis, Missouri U.S.A.. He has worked as
an editor for The Chicago Sun-Times,
Loyola University Press and Washington
University in St. Louis. He has had poems
published in or accepted by The Wisconsin
Review, The Kansas Quarterly, The South
Carolina Review, The Beloit Poetry Journal,
Commonweal, Revival (Ireland), The
Istanbul Literary Review (Turkey),
Poetry Friends, Poetry Super Highway, The
Tower Journal, Pirene's Fountain (Australia),
Public Republic (Bulgaria), and