Three Poems

by DS Maolalai

The forager.

to work
at any job
is to dig up baguettes
and plant
croissant trees.
the winebottle bush
once a week
and we share a glass
and break our fast
on flat rocks
washed onshore. in the morning
I go out
and grub up some rent-leaves
and then lie
in the hammock
all day. you pass
the glass
you’ve been whittling
and I try it. it tastes good.
like lemonade.


on your back
in bed,
at chest
and at
your belly,
the heat
of a body
in front
like an engine
and the cold
on my spine.
and I ease in
in the morning
and feel
the resistance
giving way
to the gasp.


and both of us swaddled
in bedclothes:
like monkeys
screaming in trees
and the fresh smell
of sliced
in a bar room.

we are ships
in sight of the shoreline,
bursting bilges
and heavy
coming to motion,
and falling
like ripe

The uninspired painter.

I get a canvas,
some brushes
and some paints
on sale. and I paint.
uninspired stuff
but it’s good,
the act itself,
this doing a thing
with no expected

my girlfriend
on a pedestal,
and a man
hunched over his pint.
a guitar. a wineglass.
a radio on a table.

I paint
the world
in red, fire
and an open
red sea.
the sky
a bowl of flame
like strawberries.
the grass,
like red herbs.
I paint
futures; seven headed devils
rising out of the sea;
banking collapses and
mortgage repayments.
marriage, dogs.

and dying alone
on a red bed
of alcohol.

DS Maolalai is a poet from Ireland who has been writing and publishing poetry for almost 10 years. His first collection, Love is Breaking Plates in the Garden, was published in 2016 by the Encircle Press, and he has a second collection forthcoming from Turas Press in 2019. He has been nominated for Best of the Web and twice for the Pushcart Prize.

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