Poetry by Eamonn Wall

         Grandmother’s Suitcase
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When grandmother came to live with us,
mother told me once, she brought
but one small suitcase, all her adult life
having inhabited one guest room at the hotel
she had owned, that granny liked to add
how confined space allowed for certain
freedoms to emerge, not to own or be
submerged in many accessories, shoes,
and clothes.
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                                            I recall still her elegance
of dress, how always her face and hands
sparkled with...

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