Phenomenal Women Of The Web
| Frank & Marie, ‘60s | |
| a
peek into the rumpus room:
the martini shaker stuck to the table meant it was a fine old night |
Innocently,
of course,
never having been to church or synagogue |
| if
daddy wasn’t home,
the fight did not end. his ship had hit the harbor when those boots |
or shrine
but that shrine of Sunday mornings after Martini nights |
| pounded
the porch,
when that bear of a man burst through the door |
when we got
to fetch cup on cup of black coffee and cigarettes |
| a
welcome storm
in a drought with cash & kisses & sighs |
from the drawer
(right of the kitchen sink) & were allowed to be part |
| that
dropped on us kids,
til we thought innocently of manna, |
of the cacophony
of ashes, spent love, the Sunday paper on the bed. |
© Barbara Bales 2000 all rights reserved
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