Thursday, September 19, 2013


She has taken to remembering her mother,
strong and stern,
an elder of 16,
bedded in bunches without cribs,
bundling hay that stung and pinned on hot August afternoons,
delighting in forbidden cold fresh milk,
and penance misplaced from the chalkboard
all raised to be field hands and Carmelite nuns,
silenced by a drunken father

but oh what a grin,

when it broke, you could see all the pranks
she played on her brothers.

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