Donal Mahoney


The Copyreader


I have been here a month,
sitting in a circle with others,
reading copy and writing heads.
Today I'm convinced
crime in the streets
will never stop
as long as
someone can write
and someone can read.
I spell 'ukulele' for Ulrich
and a strange continent of sweat
breaks out
on the back of my shirt.
'It's as big as Australia, '
says Ulrich.
At that moment I know
I'm letting another July
die in Chicago,
reading copy and writing heads.

Submitted: Thursday, May 08, 2014

Topic of this poem: death


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