DS Maolalai


paint so thick 
it would still stand up 
up if you took  
off the canvas.  
she leaves them out 
to dry in this high  
drying weather,  
standing like laundry 
on our shared patio.  

the colours: 
a blue oil  
swirling with red oil,  
black oil, slicked  
on blue water, 
sticking like oilspills 
to her white  
flying birds.  


Immortal today.

at the door  
to the cornershop, 
5 on a saturday 
with a bottle of wine 
and some apples. 
catching the light  
in the shine 
of the river,  
blocking out all 
other light. I feel 
immortal today; 
bored of detail.  
a girl passes by 
wheeling a bicycle. 
a man comes by 
walking a dog. life 
is an egg, burned 
on the stovetop.  
the sunlight 
is butter  
on toast. 


Five years

dropping by a restaurant 
on my way to the cornershop. 
arranging a dinner 
in two weeks 
for two. five years it’s been now 
that you’ve been here 
in ireland; 

you arrived, by the calendar, 
when I’d gone away. but I came back 
too, after all 
my adventures,  
and here you were, waiting, 
and awaiting your residence 
card. and you  

love it here – I don’t,  
but I’ll stay here now 
anyway – and now we must celebrate 

your five year anniversary.  
it would be a good day 
I suppose to propose. 

© DS Maolalai

DS Maolalai has been nominated seven 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).

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