She was taught how to be a farmer's wife as soon as she could breathe. Little fingers clasped a butter knife, imitating the swift repeat of older hands. She gained a roughness and scraped her bare legs in the maple tree out front by the falling porch. Shelled peas on the stone steps. Fell asleep between the pumpkins dreaming of butter and oat bread.
-MB
-MB
No comments:
Post a Comment