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MAMMY
Black tarmac road, winter night, the full moon follows me.
Mammy, look, look at the moon Mammy, do you see?
My arm tucked into hers, defended from invading sibling,
On her other side, a baby brother, twelve months beyond a yearling.
The marathon walk to the church, we sit in refrigeration
Packed together inside to wait, with a shivering congregation.
On her knees, praying, with words I didn’t understand.
But all through the service, I’d hold her arm with my demanding hand.