What are They ... - A Poem (From "Four Folded Corners")

Photo by Shack in the Swamp Photography

What are they these Rubenesque drifters
that layer, like skin, this stratified sky,
     impartial to none, to above nor below,
but do cry

they that sit upon Heaven's shelf
     that cradle the daystar with their faith
and metamorphose into resplendent pillows
     where retired halos lay

they that melt, blending smooth as cream into dusk
     or fluff, like whipped thick egg whites
to be brushed in masses between the amethyst
     cadmium, lapis splashes of eventide,

can you decide?
 

By Mary E. Lohan

Halo - A poem (From "Four Folded Corners"

you are not dead
     although that might not seem as bad

four screws

with shaking hands
he drives them
     one by one
     into your skull
building
an erector set
of metal rods

a bone anchored
helmet
so heavy
you are unable to
lie down
without assistance

consider yourself
paralyzed  or
the host
of a tumor
to receive this honor

you don't cry
     not until
he bolts
your head to
the table
slides your body
into an MRI
     so narrow
your elbows
     rub its insides

how do you keep
your sanity
     when its about
      to leave you?

r-e-s-t-r-a-i-n-t

wiggling your toes
     you count and cry
pray you will not
     regurgitate and die

1, 2, 3, 4, 5.....

By Mary E. Lohan

Endings - A Poem (From "Two of Cups: A NY Poet in Galway")

Everything ends
a breath,
a laugh,
tears

fears
if we are
lucky --

I brace
for ends

when they
will come
anyway.

By Mary E. Lohan

What Made Me Cry - A Poem (From "Four Folded Corners")

It wasn't
boarding the plane
with my preschool child,
his face reddened
from crying,
from not wanting
to leave Dad
from fearing the new,
the unknown,

or holding my toddler
for seven hours
straight
in the airport
on the plane,

or that I made
several trips
to the onboard
bathroom
to change
a Pamper
to play
in the sink
to change
a Pamper
to play
in the sink
to accompany
my older  son,
to change
a Pamper
to play
in the sink,

It wasn't
arriving in Ireland
tired
beleaguered
worn down
from contemplating
the state of us
of our marriage,

it wasn't the nights
of struggle
trying to get the kids
to sleep
without you,
in a pitch black
back-country room,

together --
a toddler
and preschool child
with battling bottles

it wasn't
from feeling alone
or unsure,

it wasn't
the returning flight
delayed
leaving us additional
hours to fill

or that my mom
was overtired,
having not slept
from an excursion
to the pub
the night before,

it wasn't
the added trips
to the bathroom
to the plane's kitchen
or me following
one son, after another,

or holding
the smaller one
on my lap as he
played with someone
behind me

or that I hadn't slept well
in over a week,
or that I couldn't sleep
on the plane,
although I had
been awake
for more than
24 hours

it wasn't because
I sat on the floor
while the plane
was in the air,
so that my sons
could lie down
using my seat
to stretch out on,

     it was the passenger
who approached me
as I sat on the floor
beside my toddler,
     who leaned into my ear
and whispered in a soft,
kind, reassuring voice --

"You're such a patient,
wonderful mom."


By Mary E. Lohan

Oasis - A Poem (From "Four Folded Corners")

To my boys

without trying
     you saved me
by being


By Mary E Lohan