These endless no-moon hours
when I am cold and all alone,*
even heaven would desert me
on this darkest of all nights.
The silence of your absence
is measured in my heartbeat.
* First line by Elizabeth St. Jacques
Cats At Their Bowls Lapping
This time there’s a postscript:
“If ever I cook dinner for you,
it will be Coquilles St. Jacques
and Jefferson Davis Pie.”
Imagine Angela,
after all these years,
rising and gliding
to check on my pie,
wouldn’t that be something?
Angela, come to Chicago,
and bring all of your cats.
I’ll watch those cats
in your lap napping,
you in my lap napping,
the cats at their bowls lapping,
and I in my chair laughing.
Angela, bring all of your cats
and come to Chicago
to make Coquilles St. Jacques
and Jefferson Davis Pie.
Donal Mahoney
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