Your lap, Your Chinese Checkers

The little eggshell bungalow
sporting the racket-making swing,
pink and blue hydrangeas
big as conch shells
and a woman who knew
a child needed
- to be held — to be fed -
- to be sat in a corner -
- to be let out to dream
in the shade of a sweet-smelling
magnolia -
The little eggshell bungalow
that never moved
that never changed
the child knew
- that however long the wait,
would smell of sweet milk,
sugar, butter, Johnson’s wax,
and lavender sachet -
- big pillowed rockers
and wide, rust-chained swing -
- cuppa-sugar lemonade
to cool a child
got too much sun…
Never, ever, picture a giant
bulldozer laying flat
a little eggshell bungalow
to make room for
anonymous.
- woman a knowing ghost -

(c) Phyllis Jean Green, March, 2008

http://www.authorphyllisjeangreen.com {new!}

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