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Writer's pictureRussell Jacklin

Four Pound, Half An Ounce

Two bags of sugar

A pinch of ground black pepper,

Weight of the baby

Mother gave birth to that day.

(I've sure made up for it since).

Born on the Sabbath

Priests rejoiced at her bedside.

Six weeks early, though,

Sagittarian archer

Not a horned Capricorn goat.

First hours without God

We both looked death in the eye,

Mum was scarred by cancer,

I tubed and incubated,

Months, before we both pull through.

My life's owed to her

She held and succoured me close,

Feeding me her love,

Her tender arms held me safe

Protecting my beginnings.

Celebrate birthday

By toasting love to Mother,

Lost to the C-word.

I protect her memory

Held close, so dear to me.

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