sat, with her shiny
black apron
on, tight around her waist,
home from work,
the tips
she made stacked
on the table
in rows for each child's
lunch the next day.
she opened the letter
from the church,
from the Bishop of the diocese.
she was being excommunicated
for getting a divorce.
and as he wiped the tears
off her face,
she told us
no need to go to church
anymore,
but we went anyway.
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