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.