DS Maolalaí


Canada geese.

they landed
all around the hospital
like bags of inflated air
but heavier; dropping
hailstones
and padded rocks. the hospital
was a new building - the most advanced, apparently,
in the hemisphere - but in construction
they had not taken account
the whips and roaming
flightpaths
of migrating canada
geese. we were told
to monitor them as they landed
and to call management
if any built nests
on the rooftop; they had to be dealt with then
by special men
with nets and heated
boxes
for the eggs.
and we had guards too,
at the entrance - it seemed
the birds got violent
with old ladies especially
coming in to get their results. once
one of the maintenance guys
didn't want to wait
and cracked the eggs
with something from his toolbelt. he was on camera
and ended up
being fired
and fined. and we had a compilation
of cctv attacks
on patients. security
sent us any new videos
they picked up - already by june
it was 20 minutes
long.



The arborist.

you only know trees
by the leaves which they show you. in winter
a spruce
could as well be an oak tree
or elm. and when you go
to the barber,
the same - ask for a trim;
what you get
is a haircut. bits of you falling
like leaves in a storm. leave after,
feel breezes
and the knowledge
that nobody recognises you.
you
were an oak tree
breaking the pavement. what are you
now
anymore?




DS Maolalaí is a graduate of English Literature from Trinity College in Dublin and recently returned there after four years abroad in the UK and Canada. He has been writing poetry and short fiction for the past eight or nine years. He has published two collections, Love is Breaking Plates in the Garden with Encircle Publications, and more recently Sad Havoc Among the Birds with Turas Press.
 
 
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