| Those Smiths |
| |
| My mother’s mother never squeezed |
| wet bowl-softened |
| Soap |
| and watched it curl up cool and clean and |
| pretty |
| through her fisted fingers |
| |
| I was only eight . . . and Learning |
| and didn’t know what I did |
| when I squeezed away at that precious |
| Soap! |
| |
| All those poor little children |
| on the other side of the world |
| don’t have any . . . any . . . any |
| . . . and O Child, |
| you’re here wasting it! |
| |
| I was only eight and . . . Guilty |
| How could I have known how Grandpa’s mother |
| had caviled on |
| about Those Smiths! |
| when Grandpa married one of ’em |
| “ . . . so poor |
| they can’t even afford to buy |
| Soap! |
| to wash their clothes in . . . ” |
| |
| . . . and O Child, |
| you’re here wasting . . . wasting . . . wasting |
| |
 |
| (Copyright © 2000) |
