Monday, October 27, 2014

Fallout from the War on Women / Two Flying Saucers / First Day on Parole



Donal Mahoney, a native of Chicago, 
lives in St. Louis, Missouri. His poetry and fiction
have appeared in print and online publications 
in the United States, Europe, Asia and Africa.
Some of his earliest work can be found

Fallout from the War on Women

I was warm and toasty, 
curled up, napping 
in amniotic fluid, 
without a worry 
when suddenly 
this metal thing
came into my room 

poked around 
and pulled me out.
The doctor stabbed me, 
smashed my head,
cut off my arms and legs,  
threw my pieces 
in a bucket 
with the others.
It's been a busy day
at the clinic.

At the closing hour,
a nurse dumped 
the bucket
in a freezer sack,
took it out in the alley
and threw it in a bin.
In the morning 
a private truck 

took the sack to 
the garbage dump.
The driver tossed it 
on the highest pile, 
launching flies,
at least a thousand. 

Sitting up here now
I can tell you 
I don't need arms or legs. 
I can hear 
the angels singing.




Two Flying Saucers

A flying saucer whirrs 
through the kitchen air
almost hits him in the head

flies out the open window
followed by another saucer
sailed at him by her 

angry that he's earthbound
can't take her to the moon
one more time tonight.

He's getting old, he tells her.
She should have come aboard
when he was 23 and flew

all night from star to star.
He ducks again and gasps,
"Once must now suffice."



First Day on Parole

Sometimes a person
can go too far,
Mickey said,
two stools over
downing another beer,
his first day on parole.
Someone like that 
cops can find dead,
he said, after 
newspapers start
littering the lawn.

A bullet in the temple
that no one hears
because of a silencer,
he pointed out,
is sometimes 
the culprit.

Such a good person,
the neighbors say
about the deceased,
and that may be true,
Mickey admitted,
but sometimes a person,
even a nice person, 
can go too far,

say the wrong thing
to the wrong person
at the wrong time
and take a bullet
in the temple,
Mickey said,
because it's hard  
to put a cobra 
under a bed.  

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