Donal Mahoney

Waiting Room

First time seeing this doctor,

a specialist. Took a month

to get an appointment.

The waiting room’s packed.

I grab the last seat 

next to a lady in a wheelchair

knitting something,

perhaps for a grandchild. 

I pull out my cell phone 

like everyone else

but just to check messages,

not into games.  

No one’s looking at magazines,

it seems, any more.

It’s a cell phone world,

messages and Tic-Tac-Toe.

Half an hour later the lady 

stops knitting and whispers, 

“Sit back and relax, son. 

Life’s a waiting room.

We all have appointments.

Every name is called.

Even those who believe

no doctor is in."

Gardening in Autumn

She’s been a gardener for years

but more and more she brings 

flowers inside to arrange a

new garden on her mantel.

She’s in transition, she says,

but remembers summer fondly

in the autumn of her life

and sees winter coming so 

she gardens on the mantel now.

There, winter’s not a problem.

Her arrangement, she explains,

has a dahlia, last flower of summer, 

bold above hydrangea leaves

burning red in the midst of fall.

The mugo pine warns of winter.

The pine she’s had for 20 years, 

remembers planting it and hopes 

she’s an evergreen as well.

Tenement Scene, Havana, 1962

Woman in a window

brushing long hair madly

screams at a little boy

down in the street

licking an ice cream cone

some man gave him

some man she doesn’t know

not the man she’s 

brushing her hair for

who doesn't show up.

The man with the ice cream

may have to do.

Time Flies

Used to be

she’d tell him what

to get at the grocery store

and he always brought it back.

Now she makes a list.

Used to be

she knew by noon what

she’d make for dinner.

Everything from scratch.

Now she’s in the pantry 

rummaging at 6.

Used to be

the two of them would cheer 

the sunrise on the patio 

with coffee imported

from Antigua or Barbados.

Now they sleep in.

Have instant later.

Used to be

they’d sit on the porch

and watch the sun go down

with oohs and aahs 

and a glass of sherry.

Now they doze in rockers

until it’s almost 10.

Fifty Years Later

Fifty years ago

Jane got on a plane

and flew away

without saying good-bye.

Her parents took her, I know.

She was only 14 but she 

could have said good-bye

to me, the swain 

who saw her through

our last three years 

of grammar school

when she wore braces,

the only girl who had them.

Fifty years later 

at our class reunion

she didn’t come

but I did in a new suit. 

Charlie showed me 

a class photo of all of us

smiling except for Jane. 

The braces, I guess.

Charlie asked how many kids 

I could name and I named 

every one except for Jane.

Charlie said with mock surprise,

“You don’t remember Jane?

You two were pretty tight,

going to the movies and 

sitting in the balcony,

buttered popcorn and all,

a pretty big deal back then.

Someone told the nuns 

and they were furious."

I smiled and said 

“Well, Jane flew away

the summer after eighth grade

without saying good-bye.

I heard ten years later 

she got rid of the braces

and married some Swede

who likes sardines. 

He makes his own lutefisk.

I wish Jane and Ole well.

She was only 14 but she 

could have said good-bye.”

{ Donal Mahoney }