He was like a fist, she said - and held
her fist beside her face to show us
what a fist was like: it was like her son.
Always so clenched with me, she said,
...
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I had heard Tony read this poem before. It is a moving tribute to a mother who lost her son, and who understood his anger and his sorrow and his resolution
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I had heard Tony read this poem before. It is a moving tribute to a mother who lost her son, and who understood his anger and his sorrow and his resolution