“On the sill today
the sun’s pure white.
Usually it’s gold,”
says Nell, propped
in a smock,
all frills,
sipping tea
turning cold
as she braids
white ram
horns of hair
high and tight
to the sides
of her skull.
“On the gold days
like this I warm
my hands for hours
at a time on this sill.
“Yesterday,
the doctor said
someone should
paint me.
A still life
that’s what he said.”
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Donal Mahoney has worked as an editor for The Chicago Sun-Times, Loyola University Press and Washington University in St. Louis. A Pushcart nominee, he has had poems published in The Wisconsin Review, The Kansas Quarterly, The South Carolina Review, The Beloit Poetry Journal, Commonweal, Public Republic (Bulgaria), Gloom Cupboard (U.K.), Revival (Ireland), The Istanbul Literary Review (Turkey), Rusty Truck, Deuce Coupe, Black-Listed Magazine, Asphodel Madness, Pirene’s Fountain (Australia) and other publications.
I like it too much/ thanx for sharing
just perfect. (i am a nurse-poet and i know…)