The Innisfree Poetry Journal

www.innisfreepoetry.org

by Donal Mahoney

FATHER, AGAIN, PEERING


The final years dear Mother she
was never, well, what actors call "on location."
Physically, of course, we found her

everywhere:  the parlor reading,
kitchen ironing, basement sweeping,
unlike Father whom we never found

though he was always there.  
On Sundays when he went to Mass,
he stayed behind, peering.

Like Queeg, he stared forever
from under or behind whatever
he wasn't hiding in front of.  



SONG FOR BALLYHEIGUE