DS Maolalai

DS Maolalai recently returned to Ireland after four years away, now spending his days working maintenance dispatch for a bank and his nights looking out the window and wishing he had a view. His first collection, Love is Breaking Plates in the Garden, was published in 2016 by the Encircle Press. He has twice been nominated for the Pushcart Prize.

 

 

 

Better at night than the blood

chardonnay
from the valle central;
8 euros a bottle
and cool at night by draught.
I see my neighbours in the hallway;
frederek
this french guy right across from me
likes his beer out of cans
and this guy upstairs comes out once a week like a spider
with a sack of empty cider bottles.
food is no fuel. we all live
in the center of town
alone.
single men
clinging for something to live to.

there is music at night
that comes from somewhere
and luck is less
and less like a message
from god.
good
clean music
from somewhere

spilled over like white wine.

 

An old fling

of course
like the Irish
back in the 40s
all I wanted was America.
what joy
to come in
under the shadow of buildings
like a bull
stepping over dandelions.
I’ve been to New York twice
and loved it; the streets,
dust and the smell of dustbins
burning in the hot sun.
first time there
I got drunk each night
and laid twice
in 3 days.
2nd time
I went with a friend
so there was less sex, but far
more drinking.
I put my name in for a visa
but it was declined. the city,
shine and white
and wonderful
passed me.
of course
like an old fling
you see again
after a long time
America
doesn’t look so good anymore.
now
I don’t mind
not getting to live there.

© 2018 DS Maolalai