Anne Walsh Donnelly lives in the west of Ireland. She writes poetry, prose and plays. She is the author of the poetry chapbook, “The Woman With An Owl Tattoo” (Fly On The Wall Poetry Press, 2019.) It was awarded second prize in the International Poetry Book Awards in 2020. Her full-length poetry collection, “Odd as F*ck,” will be published by Fly on the Wall press in May 2021. These two poems are from Anne’s new collection.
The day the mouse in my daughter’s bedroom spoke to me
After Martina Evans ‘Do you have any idea what a fabulous daughter you have?’ said mouse as I was wading through a mound of clothes on the bedroom floor. ‘I don’t know why you’re always giving out to her for leaving half-full mugs of hot chocolate on her dressing table. I’m rather partial to a sip of cold, hot chocolate. And we do have a fine feast on the scraps of blueberry muffins. Though we might be getting a bit plump from all the sugar. I was only saying to the wife the other day that she might have to go on a diet. We get great entertainment watching her do her make-up. Do you realise what a talented artist she is? All you seem to do is give out about the dirty towels and make-up pads she leaves in the bathroom. Though, I could make your hair stand on end if I told you about the hour-long conversations she has Facetiming her pals. Ah no, couldn’t do that to her and you’re better off not knowing anyway. But tell me, who’s this Shane lad? He seems to be popping up on her Snapchat a lot lately. Sent her ten-heart emoji’s yesterday. And that wasn’t lipstick that was on her neck after the disco last Saturday night either.’ ‘I’m going to town to get a mouse trap later,’ I said. ‘Ah, you wouldn’t want to do that to the poor buck’s willie. That’d break her heart altogether.’
The day my laurel hedge spoke to me
After Martina Evans ‘Look at the fumes coming out of that machine,’ said my laurel hedge, as I mowed the lawn. ‘Apart from what it’s doing to the air, it’s destroying my lovely shiny leaves, look how black they are. Lawn mowers need to be serviced, isn’t your son sick of telling you that? He might be seventeen but he has way more sense than you. Who cuts their lawn in high heels?’ ‘They’re old,’ I said, it doesn’t matter if they get a few grass stains.’ ‘If I had arms,’ the hedge said, ‘I’d be raising them in disbelief. When are you going to give me a trim? Look at the state of me, leaves sticking out in all directions, branches gone wild. If you paid the same attention to me as you paid your hair, I’d be in great shape. Why did you plant me if you weren’t going to look after me? I saw the next-door neighbour take a huge can of Round-Up from the boot of her car yesterday, I’ve a feeling she’s going to be spraying the bits of me hanging over her fence. Fuck, that’ll destroy me altogether.’