Mother
by and published in Edition Eight of Pomegranate
When I was born, my mother had me Christened.
Hers in turn had done it to her and my great-
grandmother was one of those real Catholics,
Irish. Squawking like a sitting-room parrot
Holy Mary, Mother of God she mimics yet
her dead grandmother’s croaks, making a joke
of that poor prune’s faith. I forgive her though, she
never dropped me head-first into a school like
hers. Expelled by nuns for shaving her hair, my
mother has taught me to believe in myself.
But now I’m in love with a Catholic boy,
she tells me I’d better believe in him.
Katie Yeomans
Katie Yeomans is 22, has a BA in Eng Lit with Creative Writing and an MA in Creative Writing with Publishing. She reads at small Surrey events, co-edited Ripple, Kingston Uni’s Literary Review and has had a handful of poems published.