Siblings teach us early on
the gentle art of sharing
MOVE OVER! HOG! YOU’RE ON MY HALF!
while Mom eats worms, despairing.
Thanks again to the S.W. Berg Photo Archives.
Category Archives: Childhood
Connections: August 8.17
My grandma’s tub had feet
and Olympic-pool-sized feeling
her toilet had a chain
that hung down from the ceiling.
More, the bathroom window
was tall and opened wide
so fresh air and scent of train
could cleanse the room inside.
Now I have this footless
peculiarity
someone mean invented
to taunt and bully me.
It can’t be cleaned without
risking tendinitis
when I fold to fit its contours
it gives me rigor mortis.
It’s called a garden tub
a pity and a shame
someone ought to sue
for slandering garden’s name.
The window can’t be opened
the toilet’s in a box
so I reach way back in memory
where my grandma’s bathroom rocks.
Connections: July 11.17
When July comes out to play,
bouncing on trampoline leaf,
climbing monkey bar stems,
sliding down the smooth
shiny pepper,
cartwheeling,
hopscotching,
hide-and-seeking in
herb tunnels,
and no one knows
how green the world can be
until the hot light leap-frogs
over itself
and we wish we could snatch it
this limpid summer air
but
unpossessable
it mocks
catch me if you can!
like childhood,
then does the garden dapple
make us stop
to fetch a memory.
Connections: June 27.17
The library was a bike ride away
back in the day
bumping up
oof
and down
ow
the curbs
back in the day
my kingdom for a basket!
handlebars and books
precarious one-girl circus
back in the day
a tiny place, that library
in a big summer
and the books whispered
take me for a ride on your bike
to that cushy old blanketed couch
in your cool damp basement
and don’t forget
what this was like
back in the day.
Thanks again to the S.W. Berg Photo Archives.
And thanks also to the Poquoson Library, Virginia, and all libraries!
Connections: May 22.17
Many the bedtime this has seen
and one day might see again
but who knows how the tucking-in
will be technified by then?
Connections: May 21.17
What’s in a back yard?
A little grass, a little sun
a little bit of garden
a little bit of fun
a haven for the rabbits
where dandelions bloom
the fresh-aired open-concept
original family room
where games and make-believe
work and play combine
but victim of aesthetics:
I miss the old clothesline.
Connections: May 9.17
My grandma had a tiny house
if you take a yardstick measure
but it was huge in other ways:
curiosity and treasure.
The coolest stuff was hid away
but I knew where to find it
and she would let me hold it
and tell the tale behind it.
Now I’m packing up my house
which means, I’m sure you know,
packing up my family
striving to let go.
Memories sneak in everywhere
in closet and in drawer
one thing leads to another
as I’m sorting on the floor.
You will understand, I’m sure,
I hyperventilate
when I note the Christmas card box:
45 for $1.98!
And thus do different eras
re-tell themselves to me
as I wrap the family flotsam
as if crown jewelry.
