on remembering poem #7
daddy bathed us a row of four in the tub
a gentle word bathe but with daddy
it was four left legs aloft scrubbed down
with a soapy cloth four left arms stuck out
ditto all turn around four more arms
four more legs stand up four fronts
four lower bums turn around four backs
four lower bums faces up eyes screwed shut
against the whirling cloth eight ears dug into
four necks everybody down rinse climb out
here’s your towels there’s your pjs go potty
all into bed kiss say your prayers goodnight
it wasn’t brutal just a rapid assembly line
I recalled this to my mom when I was grown
her feelings were hurt “I bathed you children
every night one at a time maybe two no rush
all gentle don’t you remember? your dad
only scrubbed you a few times in your whole
growing up!” I wish I’d said then her care
about everything was remembered in our
bones blood it made us thrive but most often
it’s the blatant bizarre that sears into brains
©2014 Jacqueline Jackson
This article appears in Jul 3-9, 2014.
