Two poems by Mairéad Donnellan

Mairéad Donnellan lives is Bailieborough Co. Cavan.

Her poetry has appeared in Windows Anthology, Crannóg, Boyne Berries, Revival, The Moth and is forthcoming in Skylight Poets.

Two poems by Mairéad Donnellan



I thought it was only me

who didn’t revisit the house

with too many rooms,

who put myself out by miles

when old enough to drive.


Seems you too don’t bare your legs

since that summer,

you keep your key on the inside,

despise the smell of Smithwick’s,

pipe smoke, and a cologne you cannot name.


In whispers we recall a parlour

where rosebuds climbed the walls,

while we dialled home on his old black phone,

our ringing, ringing, ringing,

never picked up.



A Monday in ordinary time


she summons them

to the window.

No one stirs from their coffee-

it’s not the boss rounding the bend,

or a five car pile-up at the lights.


Bullfinches in the garden,

two rosy, one dull,

dining on dandelion clocks.

Minutes dwindle until there is

only her

and three birds

in deep wet grass.


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