Mary Cranston
Yes I know
They’ve cut off your long hair,
your face is swollen
your body curling in on itself.
Like a brown leave
you are beautiful.
When you look at me
I see you in there,
Seventeen,
Hair piled high,
wearing a fine gown.
At thirty
you lost your two youngest and your man
In one season.
Praying to remain gentle,
you threw snowballs with your children,
Became a seamstress
And treasurer for Bad Axe, Michigan.
Then a farmer’s wife,
you lifted milk cans,
Lugged feed sacks,
Stuffed fruit into jars,
Jostled with friends in Sunday carts,
Singing hymns on your way to the lake.
When your second man died
you came to California.
I was six when I first saw you,
Tall
Breasts and waist
Black braids wound round your head,
Bright dark eyes.
You became a practical nurse,
Pruned your own trees
And rented a room to Mrs. Johnson.
At Christmas you made
Stroganoff and fudge
And had us all over for dinner.
You gave us such gifts of yourself.
Thank you.
15 October 1976 English 224
I see you in there,
Seventeen,
Hair piled high,
wearing a fine gown.
At thirty
you lost your two youngest and your man
In one season.
Praying to remain gentle,
you threw snowballs with your children,
Became a seamstress
And treasurer for Bad Axe, Michigan.
Then a farmer’s wife,
you lifted milk cans,
Lugged feed sacks,
Stuffed fruit into jars,
Jostled with friends in Sunday carts,
Singing hymns on your way to the lake.
When your second man died
you came to California.
I was six when I first saw you,
Tall
Breasts and waist
Black braids wound round your head,
Bright dark eyes.
You became a practical nurse,
Pruned your own trees
And rented a room to Mrs. Johnson.
At Christmas you made
Stroganoff and fudge
And had us all over for dinner.
You gave us such gifts of yourself.
Thank you.
15 October 1976 English 224