Ireland, with the rise and fall of green expanse,
Was everything compared to our tenement on Thurbers Avenue.
I shared it with my husband and my Erin,
Who was one month shy of birth.
Prohibition hadn't hit Providence yet,
So Sean stopped work because of His love of the drink.
My third trimester wouldn't stop me
From working at the textile mill.
Sean protested, but I – we – needed money.
The mill had a grand view of the river
Except for the hospital in that background.
After my long day of spinning wool,
And Sean's long day at the saloon,
I arrived home to angry fists and
vicious words.
Then all at once, Erin and I tumbled down
The hallway stairs.
We waited at the foot, but no one came.
Not until a day later, when our blood
Began to seep into the next apartment.
Providence isn't provident after all.