The Children of Tuam, by Rachael Clyne

I am not a silent poet

Piteous is a potent word
for unwanted, unfed,
too weak to cry.

In a shit-pit of shame,
lie eight-hundred stains
on Bon Secour piety.

No smiley peekaboos
no gagagagas
stains don’t giggle

In the bowels of Christ
tiny bones mingle
whisper like flutes

until plump children
apple-scrumping
uncover their truth.

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