John Doyle

9173, 1803, 0094

by John Doyle

9173 was my ID code for work,

instead of typing in my name, I'd type in this number,

get paid, be this unrustable machine.

Patrick McGoohan would've been so proud.

1803 was the alarm code for some shithole I lived in,

it was south of the city,

junkies, arguments,

takeaway smells upstairs.

People told me romantic tales of the southside of the city,

women were called "Penelope" there,

smelled like Milan,

men drove Porsches, wore white collars and yellow cuffs.

From my window I saw a guy drive past—

looked just like King Carlos of Spain.

Fancy that.

0094 is some random number

I just wrote down.

It could also be a number someone's throat

gets slashed for

in 4-minutes time.

The clock is ticking—

is it you,

do you even have time to read

this next poem?

Postfontaine

by John Doyle

Oregon, Saturday May 31, 1975

A casket is immediate on this curve,

stone-chipped finish,

distinct from gold—

a quartet of spinning wheels

mark a blood-red descent towards town;

night is mysterious and heavy,

short of breath; its stopwatch

beats to a rhythm of worn-out eyes,

signals getting

slower and slower—

Montreal is,

Montreal was,

Montreal

will never be.

The wheels stop spinning, eyes go out—no action replays

Conclusions

i.m. Kevin Moran (1930 - 2020)

by John Doyle

A few coffee mugs

cease clinking, stains curdle their yearly snowfall—

ABBA rehearsing supper's encore since 1978,

Derby County - League Champions 1974/1975—

game abandoned due to deaths, taxes—the usual.

Cats reason with me,

a few hardened sausages land their way—

life being its hard callow-self, hands like raisins, coffee-stained,

elderly mugs too, in mourning—

seeping glory;

Six bottles of stout a glassy ghoulish-brown

will keep his head above water, until my return—

Derby County and ABBA mugs, starving cats

who must reason with me—

things he doesn't remember

enough to forget

John Doyle is from County Kildare in Ireland. He returned to writing poetry in February 2015 after a gap of nearly 7 years. Since then, he's had 6 collections released, including Leaving Henderson County, in 2020. He is writing his first novel at present and works as a journalist.