2 Poems, by DS Maolalai

The Interview 

I got out,
confident I’d done well,
and to reward myself
and picked up
a half
of afternoon wine
and a jar of black olives.

the office
had been on the river in london,
just below chelsea
and staring
at the airport
where helicopters took off
like swinging spiders
hung in the air.

the light
was good as a new coin
and my suit
shiny as shoeleather.

I sat on a bridge
looking over the river
with my tie in my pocket.
a little drunk,
devouring olives.

they were salty
and firm
and delicious;
like meat
grown out
of the ground.



slinging thick,
the buildings
tower like rocks on a shore
and insults
sting harder
than plates.

we are outside
throwing dishes at each other
to explain
better than words
our own

flop like buzzards
and on the table
tremble with impact. a mouse
scrambling from its hole
ducks back
in terror by our shouting.
darkness moves in over us,
held off by the porchlight. outside
the glow
it’s thick enough to comb with your fingers
and so heavy
that you could hold me down
and drown me.


About DS Maolalai

DS Maolalai recently returned to Ireland after four years away, now spending his days working maintenance dispatch for a bank and his nights looking out the window and wishing he had a view. His first collection, Love is Breaking Plates in the Garden, was published in 2016 by the Encircle Press. He has twice been nominated for the Pushcart Prize.