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Contractions

I say our spell check’s

rather daft

to underline in red

my use of amn’t.


I am not impressed

when you tell me

it isn’t valid,

despite the Irish

lips that speak it,

adding it’s a stunt,

to inflame

the English snobs,

the ones who lift

their crumpets in the air,

sing Charles is our King!


Amn’t I your girl?

Joyce in Ulysses

came to write,

and none would dare

to insert an

erratum slip,

citing it as err.


You’re not in Ireland

now, Boland as a

girl was told

when she sprung the word

in class,

immortal now in verse

she penned

without a second thought,


as will I, in a poem

that even you'll

refuse to read,

unless I write

a second draft,

for a sharp-eyed

London editor,


who has never set a foot

in Cork or Dublin,

one who knows a typo

when they see it.





Andreas Gripp

July 28, 2023


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