Raspberry Hives

by Donal Mahoney

The ancient man with raspberry hives
on his cheeks since childhood
will live alone no longer.
He will marry, he says,
the first woman who’ll have him.

Till now he has wanted to die
as he’s lived, alone in his room
with the radio playing,
with the water in the bathtub
dripping.

The drone of hours, however,
has become the drone of years
and the ancient man with raspberry hives
on his cheeks since childhood
fears death will convert
his hives into pocks,
take his body but reject his soul.

Now he believes if he weds
the first woman who’ll have him
death will have reason,
for the first time,
to do the job right.