DS Maolalaí has been nominated eight times for Best of the Net and five times for the Pushcart Prize. His poetry has been released in two collections, “Love is Breaking Plates in the Garden” (Encircle Press, 2016) and “Sad Havoc Among the Birds” (Turas Press, 2019).
The onion smell.
my window is open.
through it
stumble words,
each holding a glass
to its chest,
with the onion smell
of hotdogs
and the sharpness
of discount
white wine. out
on the shared patio
my neighbours
are having a party. chatting
about drunken train-rides,
sex stories
and loud laughter
bright like running water. I
am inside, mean
with a mean book
and a glass of my own,
searching the silence,
too hungry to live
on the scent
of fried meat. I close my window
against any intrusion of company
and turn on the radio.
biting an apple
I light a candle
to mask that onion smell.
~
My favourite ex-girlfriend
in the pub
in a blizzard
around 2014
with james,
near to dispatch
sneaking out
when the shift
had got busy. enjoying
our beers; discussing
the job
over lunch
with a cold pint
of lager – deciding
who was hot
in the office. we were kids
I suppose, or just barely
not kids – considering work
in the light
of the schoolyard.
I mentioned
that one girl –
can’t remember
her name – made me think
of my favourite
ex-girlfriend. it was true,
I suppose, in the way
these things are –
they were both
at least blonde
and quite serious.
~
A new hat.
I buy a new hat
and a turtleneck
jumper. you also
buy jumpers,
a cardigan
and button-up
blouse. on the walk
back through town
we get two scoops
of ice cream
and sit a while,
nudging each other
whenever we see
a new dog. I am wearing
my hat – the rest
are in bags.
we can’t try them out
in this boiling
hot heat.
when we’re done
with the ice cream
we go back to the house.
something, in all this,
is happening.
~
My painting.
there are buildings
stacked in red
and textured orange,
with windows
picked ahead
in white squares.
and you can tell
it’s a view of a river
because the bottom half
is the top
made blurry
like a reflection
on the uncalm water
you get in dublin
though the buildings here are not red
they are blue,
or grey
with pessimistic eyes
horizontal slashes
done with a brush
haphazard, raised
and a shape
that could be a person
picked out
in lighter colours.
it is on my wall
near to the window
and visible from the toilet
if you don’t shut the door.
we all have things
that bring sparks in our lives
it just happens that mine
is a landscape
done in red
which looks much like dublin
if you look at it
through non-prescription
glasses.