(in memoriam P.S.R.)
My sainted mom was born on Devils’ Night.
We celebrated after dark for years.
The things kids do that night are never right—
But often merit adolescent cheers.
My sainted mom was on the verge of tears
Much of those nights, I’m sure. When kids raise hell,
No mom’s concern for offspring disappears.
I know she prayed – and, boy, did she pray well!
Devils like Little Tom would love to tell
Such saints as her to pray their evil asses
Out of the pit. Can sanctity compel
Mercy to rain upon the wicked masses?
Can woman saved uplift bad boy – or man?
If anyone can manage it, she can.