Life as we believe it to be
sitting in the carpark
in a parked car
on the malahide road.
sipping our sodas
and trying a new burger
released for limited period
from a fast food place we like.
this is something; this
could be something –
life as it is,
as we believe it to be.
tearing open salt packets
to spill on the dashboard
and pour whatever’s left
into our salty food. we trade sides
and bites of sandwich,
slug back sugar
and open our windows
to toss chips
out at the heads of seagulls
which strut in circles
and stomp about the tarmac,
big as small dogs
and begging by the wheelwell. we chew,
think about it, and belch
(we’re comfortable).
I tell you I think
that you got the better burger.
you agree.
you’re finishing your fries
while I gun and stall the engine.
the noise makes seagulls scatter,
graceless as panicked donkeys.
I still don’t really know
quite how to drive
this thing. I try again
and get it started. as we move
they gain some height, swooping,
becoming beautiful.
The faucet
sometimes life soared
as a monstrous seabird
and sometimes it landed
as a bird yet
again. and the poems came
either way, steady as the drip
of a faucet
at night near the bedroom,
driving him mad
with its constantly dropping,
keeping him awake
like an ear on a rustling
pillow. and he tried
at his novels and even
short stories, and he tried
at just living
a full and happy life. still
they came out of him,
pumping unserious,
bleeding from skin
instead of arteries.
Sugar
white apartments
stacked on the river,
like ice
or block sugar
dripping
from a grey
lip.
toppling
the rotten houses
like black
and perfect
teeth.
DS Maolalai has been nominated four times for Best of the Net and three times for the Pushcart Prize. His poetry has been released in two collections, “Love is Breaking Plates in the Garden” (Encircle Press, 2016) and “Sad Havoc Among the Birds” (Turas Press, 2019)