By: Erin Davis
Sometime as a child, I once told someone that I was dying,
Because that’s what the students in the courtyard told
Me when we hung on the iron gate posts and looked out
Among our forefathers and one little girl, with the pox-
Scarred cheeks and glass eyes, pointed to the little stone
In the raised dirt and said “That’s my mam. She couldn’t
Tough it.” So then her hands were empty and she puffed
Her chest because she wasn’t weak.
The chapel called her to lunch, and I went to vomit.