The Next One Like You
I’ve found no new woman,
as you’d like to surmise.
But the next one
who braids
my mind with my heart
won’t get away,
not even if she’s a nun.
The next one like you
I’ll lock in a room
near the sky and there
will I kiss her until
she is certain
a thousand butterflies
one by one
are lighting
all over her body.
Donal Mahoney
On Taking Secretaries To Lunch
If you live in the valley
know the lava above
has the tact of Comanche
demeanor of dove
Hoe furrow
don’t sprinkle
your seed
then enwire
Post sentry
tall criers
Go home
to your love
Donal Mahoney
When The Words Begin
It always begins
like indigestion,
slowly at first,
then full bore.
Either way,
I need relief,
no question.
But no antacid
can abort a poem
so I have to stop
and take dictation.
I’m no Matthew, Mark
Luke or John.
They wrote the Gospels
by Divine Inspiration.
I’m on my own;
I have to listen.
So when the words begin
I grab my quill.
I have no choice.
I have to stop
and take dictation.
Donal Mahoney
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Donal Mahoney lives in St. Louis, Missouri, U.S. A. His poetry and fiction have appeared in a variety of publications, including Public Republic (Bulgaria), Revival (
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