Contributor: Donal Mahoney

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High noon this winter day
and blackbirds fill
the bare branches

of my dead neighbor's tree.
Max would have loved these birds;
they're as raucous as he was,

bobbing and clucking
as if they're debating
where to fly next.

Suddenly they know
and shoot from the tree.
They're gone but I shout

"Godspeed!" anyway
on behalf of old Max,
immigrant from Auschwitz.

He may be dead but
the numbers on his forearm
glow in my dreams.


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Nominated for Best of the Net and Pushcart prizes, Donal Mahoney has had work published in print and electronic publications in North America, Europe, Asia and Africa.