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A Pater Nostrum

Pierre, a family for an orphan daydreamer
Looking out to sea
From a lonely islet
Half a mile from land.

One can swim there,
By passing two before;
Known collectively by bathers
Starting from the shore
As the Three Sisters.

Pierre thought of a family;
His mind would roam;
He was heir to the Dauphin:

His heritage would rise
From deep near the alligator rock
Revealed once or twice a year
As the tide elopes but to

Change mind about the moon.

But dolphin chirps cease;
Heritage released,
When Pierre went back
To the Home,

The Sisters alone.

O witch-shaped hat,
The First Sister.
An authoritative figure,
But no family here.

Another reef exists
Further away, permanently
Surrounded; toiling in the sleeve,

Dashed fishermen— their
Prolonged wails carry
Over generations:

They named this place
the Paternosters

Sailors cross themselves
On approach.

A prayer.

Yet as Pierre returned
To take up a rocky throne,
The Three became sisters
And those prolonged screams
Spoke pater noster—a father too.

Those fishermen, they translated.

Pierre is French for stone.

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