Islip Born:

His pale eyes
Bright with light
Shone with grace
A soul touched
However lightly
By Christ

A middle class
Strong arms
A broad back
And a buzzed hair cut
Cut down to its blond roots

Born and raised in Islip
If I were to take a guess
White skin
Burnt, then tanned
Over and again
A middle class workingman

I’d give him my hand
To wed
If he so chose
First, we need to meet again


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