D S Maolalaí
D S Maolalai is a graduate of English Literature from Trinity College in Dublin who recently returned there after four years abroad in the UK and Canada. He has been writing poetry and short fiction for the past five or six years with some pieces appeared in such publications as 4'33', Strange Bounce and Bong is Bard, Down in the Dirt Magazine, Out of Ours, The Eunoia Review, Kerouac's Dog, More Said Than Done, Star Tips, Myths Magazine, Ariadne's Thread, The Belleville Park Pages, Killing the Angel, Unrorean Broadsheet, and in the Illumination edition of the époque press é-zine.
D S Maolalai has been nominated four times for Best of the Net and three times for the Pushcart Prize. His poetry has been released in two collections, "Love is Breaking Plates in the Garden" (Encircle Press, 2016) and "Sad Havoc Among the Birds" (Turas Press, 2019)
Of the piece featured here, D S Maolalai says:
‘The Isolation theme call came out from époque press at a time when I’m sure it had been on the minds and keyboards of a lot of writers, and of course I was no exception. I’ve been unfortunately been unable to resist the urge to write pandemic-related poetry lately, but luckily I’ve lived alone for the majority of my life, which allowed me to push that isolation theming back in time and not forcing myself into a solipsistic hole of unrelatable poetry about nothing but my current circumstances. Of the three poems appearing here, the newest is “His new moustache”, which is for the most part a true story about a friend of mine, something of a social butterfly, who was staying in a place in the country with no car or other means of travel when the Irish lockdowns were announced, and found himself utterly isolated and cut off. “Anticipation” is (thank god) a less-true story about the fights I was worried my partner and I would go through at the same time with nobody to talk to but each other – luckily, we managed a little better than the people described in the poem. And “Air, thinking of bogsides” is a poem inspired by my earlier (and less-enforced) isolation, when I lived in a bedsit apartment by myself in Toronto (having moved there somewhat too confidently) without any friends, and my thoughts of being anywhere else.’