Wednesday afternoon - by
my father is “having fun”
/ cleaning the floor
/ he uses the plugged in sink as a bucket
/ wears rags on his feet
/ and shimmies…
housework
’Our cries, she used to say…’ - by
Our cries, she used to say
/ would scratch the moon’s windowpanes
/ and scrape the corners of tombstones which milked the moon
/
/ My mother…
Mother - by
All this last week I have been thinking
of my mother, thinking of her taking
up in her arms the creaking basket
of clothes, without pausing, up to the attic.