Drenched In Red With Saint Valentine
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I posted this poem last year about the St. Valentine's Day Massacre in Chicago, but repeat it here in honor of Valentine's Day.
Straight-up the arrows,
hard-pressed the doors
to all the rooms
in all the houses
on Clark Street.
Father Coughlin brought blessings
thinned with broth
from potato peelings.
Women poured tears
into fringed shawls,
and buried their dead
above Dublin’s seashore,
along the banks
of the river Liffey.
Through the years,
the ghost of James Clark,
Bugsy’s brother-in-law,
pursued Al Capone
all the way to his grave.
Copyright © Cona Adams | Year Posted 2015
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