The ambassador from Ireland., DS Maolalai

Marilyn Higginson, April Snow, Oil on Wrapped Canvas

The ambassador from Ireland.


he turned,
grabbing the corner
next to a lamp,
and belched
a cats dinner
all over his trousers
and onto his shoes.

no girlfriend.
no job. and very little
by the way
of prospects. his friends
were all away somewhere,
and he
was away now
too, new
in a new city
on another continent
with a small apartment.
and he had felt
a night out
airing his accent
would pick him up.

out of the sky
snowflakes scattered
like even the stars
had surrendered
to collapse. he turned toward
where he remembered
being home
and watched himself outside
feeling the world
swirl for a second,
like a spoon in black coffee
but freezing
with knives against the cold.

DS Maolalai

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