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 mattress.
the building manager
works for a company
which also sells furniture.
bargaintown. they’re quite
well known, and we go in,
tell them where we live.
expect a discount
on our new mattress
and get nothing
if you don’t count
delivery.
it’s a five minute walk,
even carrying the mattress;
I could probably do it
myself. we take it
all the same. they’ve let us
have a dog – no sacrifice
on their part, but I guess
we feel we owe them. we don’t –
we pay rent. chrys
makes good money, and I
do alright. we can meet
our responsibilities – god damn
there’s nothing like it.
we can afford full price
on the mattress.
if they made us pay delivery
could afford it.
~
Dirty.
and you’re hanging out
in the hallway of your building
just because that’s where
the washing machine
- laundry;
you need clean clothes
if you want to keep your job,
keep your friends
and keep your girlfriend
happy.
a neighbour comes out
while you’re waiting.
she’s young, she’s pretty,
and she lives next door,
and walks past fast
just as you’re packing
a handful of underwear.
you say hi
and keep looking
as she opens the door
and goes out.
you’ve met her husband;
he seems nice,
even if he didn’t have a corkscrew
when you needed one.
but this
is still embarrassing;
no-one likes a girl
to know their pants get dirty.
at least, not very
early on.
~
How it was that evening.
the wind ran hard
and stampede steady,
knocking down grass
like the corners on pages
of an interesting
book. and the sky was a dull
red colour outside,
his daughter
crying, some god
or other
making rain.