Smithereens Press Chapbooks Taking the Oath by Tom French | Page 33

A Cure, Janeville

For homesickness,
the swish of reeds;
Sweet May for when
the spine plays hell;
for the lungs,
mullein;
for nights when sleep
goes AWOL,
let someone reach down
that fiddle and play
‘The Boesinghe Polka’,
‘The Winding Road to Slane’.

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