Sundays Tom minds me, mama wandering: I
toddle through his rooms eying
girl pictures, so curvy, plump red lips all smiles
puffy lovely negligees: in
old photographs Tom
holds my hand in front of our apartment building;
digs sand with me at Orchard Beach
mama sunbathing on a towel; fun
papist he is, prayers in his mouth, thick waisted red faced
give you his shirt; on weekends Tom
drinks schnapps in the Poe Cozy Nook; once
upon he takes me to Our Lady of Refuge, walking
to church Tom whispers just do
what all the people do and
I am pleased and rarified, kneel
genuflect eyes down am I holy am I saint am I Jesus?
We move away soon
father back from soldiering and
one night Tom walks home from the bar in the alone dark
mugged killed body left in a vacant lot; we find out
by chance.