A still life
Poet: DS Maolalai
we are in aodhains place. it's saturday;
chrysty's gone home and I've not
much to do. we planned having wine
tonight. slices of cheese; some ham
and a fire. it's wonderful – aodhain's
turned off all the lights. the room is a plum
on a dust-wooden table – a still life,
and we are still, talking of things.
the sofas are really upholstered,
there's carpets, and the house
is a long empty body with bones.
and it's old – it gets mentioned
in the Ulysses funeral chapter.
he's 30 and still lives at home
for right now, and still trying
for work in the colleges.
I truly admire that – not to give up
on the thought that things might
be yet known, though he gigs on the side.
right now it's the census, and he thinks
to me quietly that he might
buy a car with the money.
I did it too, once, and we talk some
about it – I didn't make his
kind of cash. the sun sets quite late –
the clocks just went forward. but still
we stay later, and when I go out it is dark.
DS Maolalai has been nominated nine times for Best of the Net and seven times for the Pushcart Prize. He has released two collections, "Love is Breaking Plates in the Garden" (Encircle Press, 2016) and "Sad Havoc Among the Birds" (Turas Press, 2019). His third collection, "Noble Rot" is scheduled for release in May 2022.