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Olivia Street Prayers
Wet back streets, buchi in hand, I pass
Christmas palms, bent with goodwill,
and orange poinciana, shelter for tin roofs
as summer assaults our little lanes.
When the winds come, we christen them;
board up all the windows, bar the doors.
Candles, prayers to Mary, star of the sea,
we trust in kneeling, and in nails, for love.
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