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FEILE-FESTA
Spring 2014

Poetry

My Grandmother’s Sheets
- M. Bouvard
In My Sicilian Cart
- S. Buttaci
Irish Prayer
- N. Byrne
In the VA Hospital
- M. Candela
My Immigrant Grandpa’s Cottage
- A. Curran
Assurance
- F. Diamond
A Dream of Joe
- C. Dodds
He Never Shut Up
- L. Dolan
La Sicilia
- J. Going
A Kind of Sacrament
- T. Johnson
I’m Writing Brochures for Travel Companies
- M. Lisella
Grandmothers Speak
- P. McClelland
All the Way
- J. McKernan
Cahir Castle
- K. Mitchell-Garton
Return to New York
- T. Peipins
Memorabilia
- F. Polizzi
Lu Friscalettu/
The Reed Pipe

- N. Provenzano
At the Protestant Cemetery
- D. Pucciani
Evelyn McHale
- J. Raha
Gerry Summons Up The Past
- G. Sarnat
Doing Her Proud
- M. Trede
My Daughter Wears Her Evil Eye to School
- L. Wiley
Finbarr Enters the Poet’s Mind
- H. Youtt
Beyond the Animal Farm
- C. Yuan

Meredith Trede


Doing Her Proud

Just one more thing, let me wipe down the moldings.
Give me a minute, I’m almost done. I won’t have anyone
saying she didn’t keep a nice home. Nothing
dirty ever lingered—every appliance glistened,
the parquet glowed golden, the crystal showered prisms.

Your fingers are sticky. Don’t touch that. Come in,
your dress is all wrinkled. Little girls don’t play in dirt.


That’s no way to dry dishes. Did you dust on top
of the door jamb? Floors should be scrubbed every day.


This year she couldn’t battle the soot streaks high
up the walls, or the coffee trail Dad blindly spilled
on the floor. I’ve scrubbed behind the fridge, bleached
tile on the bathroom walls. This house will shine
for a wake to remember – a crowd of drink and song.