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
and three birds
in deep wet grass.