Consuela and Sean by Donal Mahoney

Through the nursery glass

Carlos Montero peeks at Consuela,

his twelfth, in the arms of a nurse.

*

Pink as a peony

with brilliant black hair,

Consuela is raw, bawling.

*

The nurse takes Consuela

away to be washed as Carlos

digs deep in his denims,

*

locks elbows, gleams,

turns to me. I feel odd

in a suit and a tie as I

*

wait to see Sean, our first.

When the nurse brings Sean to the window,

Carlos Montero whips off his sombrero,

*

makes a bullfighter’s pass and beams.

“Senor!” he booms like a tuba. “Ole!”

Suddenly I’m as happy as he.

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Donal Mahoney has had poems published in a variety of print and online publications, including The Wisconsin Review, The Kansas Quarterly, The South Carolina Review, The Beloit Poetry Journal,Commonweal, Public Republic (Bulgaria), Revival (Ireland), The Istanbul Literary Review (Turkey) and A Golden Place. A native of Chicago, he lives now in St. Louis, Missouri, where he discovered, much to his doctor’s distress, biscuits and gravy.

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Editor’s Note: Please remember to pray for Bennett.