Taxi Driver
I remember the train
and the cab that I caught,
the train because of the meal that I had,
too many plates, the tiniest portions,
the cab because of the driver I had.
I could see in the mirror his eye
soar to the side of its socket,
a hummingbird there
ready to flutter into his skull.
From station to town,
that hummingbird flew
as I kept listening
to its master extol
the town’s lone hotel.
* Donal Mahoney lives in St. Louis, Missouri. He has worked as an editor for The Chicago Sun-Times, Loyola University Press and Washington University in St. Louis. He has had poems published in The Wisconsin Review, The Kansas Quarterly, The South Carolina Review, Commonweal, Ink Sweat & Tears, Revival (Ireland), The Istanbul Literary Review (Turkey), Public Republic (Bulgaria), Pirene's Fountain (Australia), Calliope Nerve and other publications.
