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the clothesline and me (1 Viewer)

dannyboy

Friends of WF
the clothesline and me (1):
First it swung so high above
and mother hung sheets that
when the wind sprang
spoke
in father’s voice,
smelled of spring grass, flittered
and flapped
like the magpies father fed
that came warbling at the back door.

the clothesline and me (2):

I grew, the clothesline
remained steady, eventually
without a chair or father to lift me,
I could hold the bar and swing
as if I and the wind were twin forces;
in my head stars spun…
I smelt the cloying smell of pissed sheets,
caught the secrets that lurked
in mother’s knowing eyes.

Once I took a pen and drew
even though she told me not to
and her eyes were enough,
a mother’s eyes always are –
childhood is a clothesline,
secrets pegged out to dry
in sunshine and rain.


the clothesline and me (3):

Visitors visit the front yard
the backyard with the clothesline
remains safe, strung up and weighted down
with the childhood we crafted
from secrets, smiles and fears.
All I am can be found
in that yard,
all choices understood if secrets,
like baubles that glitter
upon the wire, are studied.
 
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