SOMEBODY'S BLOOD
merging in traffic
to fast and deliberate
music. sun on my cheek
through the open car
window, on my knuckles
like somebody's
blood. the world is a ball;
from an angle it pivots
beneath me. from others it doesn't
but mine's the perspective
I see. riding on the motorway,
I bend unto road-
circled city. the M50
lashes – my wheels drag the whip
into crack.
SLOW DETAIL
the primary fear
shared by all of us;
that the mind will go
long before the body.
my grandmother,
lost around every
corner. a kid
at a parade
chasing a floating
balloon.
and differently too
is how
we deal with it.
my aunt
does sudokus
and my dad
learns foreign languages.
my brother
and sister and I
don't think about it
yet. for a long time
my uncle
didn't visit. now she's dead
and he'll continue
doing that.
fear; the mind going
until you don't know
mind is going. and we're prone
to bad anxiety
because we think about
our minds. becoming useless,
like statues
made of sandstone. how the rain
washes slow
detail away.
DS Maolalai has been nominated nine times for Best of the Net and five times for the Pushcart Prize. His poetry has been released in two collections, "Love is Breaking Plates in the Garden" (Encircle Press, 2016) and "Sad Havoc Among the Birds" (Turas Press, 2019).