The other night abed, Father,
propped upon an elbow, dropped
and died. Earlier that week, Mother
gave me Anthony to hold when
Father threw a fist, missed
and bellowed through the door.
I did not see the biggest of them
bear him back. But at the wake
they spoke of how he ran,
fell across a fence and swayed there.
I was in another room,
giving Mother Anthony to hold,
and I remember how,
clairvoyantly for once,
she wept there.
Istanbul Literary Review - May 2010 Edition (#17)
Donal Mahoney
USA
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, The Istanbul Literary Review (Turkey), Public Republic (Bulgaria), Gloom Cupboard (U.K.), Revival (Ireland), Poetry Super Highway, Pirene's Fountain (Australia) and other publications.
