Preachers On The Street

the thing is
at least
they have guts enough
to believe in something.
it takes
to go that far;
standing on a streetcorner
screaming at strangers.

and what good is faith
in any god
if it doesn’t
set you to
yelling obscenity? some kindness,
some skimpy wince
of infinite light? give me something
real enough
to make men
make enemies
with everyone around them
in the hope
one person
will be saved.

real faith. like
the monks
of vietnam
setting themselves
for Stop the War
photographers. and if anyone else
getting communion
on a sunday morning
just to have a chat after
with the neighbours
and grab something
badly made
at a bake sale
truly believed
at all
it’s what
they’d be doing

Burning In Crowded Places

in the winter
cities of vapor
like the air above an oven. heat
bursting out of cafe doors
and snuggled in
under cloudy
eiderdowns. your hands,
hot coffee
against my cold hands. breath
burning in crowded places
and ducks
bobbing on broken water
like a black coal
at the centre
of each pond we pass in the park – collapsing
as the fire
of this ice
closes in.



img_3119DS Maolalai is a poet from Ireland who has been writing and publishing poetry for almost 10 years. His first collection, Love is Breaking Plates in the Garden, was published in 2016 by the Encircle Press, and he has a second collection forthcoming from Turas Press in 2019. He has been nominated for Best of the Web and twice for the Pushcart Prize. Twitter at  @diarmo1990


Featured photo credit: Amanda Ollinik  @Allunderonemoon