Ireland

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For Nicola

A poet I once knew
brought me to her table
she asked her daughter
to say grace
so I would not have to
share my blessings
as was their custom
the girl proclaimed, I
will pray for Monday
and Tuesday, and you
nodding at me, can pray
for Wednesday and
Thursday. My friend
reminded the child
the point was to leave
me out of it, I don’t mind
but am I to recite
or make up my own?
Prayers are not imaginary!
they chided
The poet and I left
the table while the girl
prayed for Monday
Study this, she
pointed to a poem
that was a map
You see the airport
is a question mark?
the mystery of longitude
left unsolved the threat
of an unstable axis
memory which can never be
trusted, and every distinction
of time to the nanosecond
thick between us, gasping
Shouldn’t we get back?
It’s almost time to pray
for Wednesday

© 2013 Abby Smith, Writer

Dream Series #3

Dream series #1  Babe the Blue Ox

Dream Series #2  My Hardest Life


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