Clean your ears, and clean your nose
Scrub your elbows, then between your toes
Your dad will shout to use that soap
And mom will yell she just can’t cope
That smell is more than I can take
Clean that belly button for goodness sake
Tag Archives: mom
I Learned it from a Box of Books
I fell into a sea of brothers, often swimming
For dear life, secretly wishing for sisters, while
My friends with families overflowing in the feminine
Sharing clothes, make-up, bedroom discussions
Extolling the necessity of good hygiene, the hows
Mixed intimately with the whys leading to success
With boys, whose secrets I knew but didn’t understand
Girls counseled in giggles by their own safely through
Puberty’s passage while me with a borrowed set of books
My mother placed solemnly on the kitchen table for me
To read with their anatomically correct animations
Curiously provided me with the facts minus the fun
No depth for understanding intricacies and the power
In the possibility of love or preparation when advantages
Were given and taken and the shocking discovery made
That boys don’t love you after if they didn’t love you before
And not a book written gives comfort then; I have looked
Beware The Ides of March
Babe was a guy who owned a big tavern against a giant rock bluff in a town across the river from us
Dad took me there a few times, going over the bridge, sunshine becoming a foreign intruder when we opened the door to leave
My dad worked on the side bar-tending for Babe, that extra money probably a necessity for his family of seven with one on the way
Being only 4, I didn’t understand why this grown man was called Babe,
and I asked this man behind the big oval bar
He always gave me a kiddie cocktail, which sounded like kitty to me and I didn’t understand that either, he chuckled as I
Enjoyed the deliciousness of that red with the cherries and the orange slice on the teeny tiny colored sword that balanced across the top
On my tenth birthday my mom was still in the hospital with something they were calling high blood pressure
My dad took me to a supper club, just the two of us on a school night, and Babe was there
He joked around with my dad and laughed that my favorite meal was a bacon and American cheese melted on toast
Babe always seemed to be laughing, and as he left he said to my dad, “Beware the Ides of March with that one huh, Buck?”
I never seemed to get Babe’s jokes, so Dad explained that some guy named Caesar’s murder was predicted to happen on March 15th
Ides means middle, Dad said, and so some fortune teller told Caesar to beware the Ides of March
The fortune teller was right, and Caesar’s good friend Brutus helped to kill Caesar on March 15th
Babe was just being funny dad said, no one was going to kill me. Babe just likes to joke around
Being with dad, his only daughter, out where people always put a smile on their faces when they talked to him, was special
My Dad taking me to a restaurant all by myself on my birthday with my five brothers eating who knows what, at home, and Babe joking around
One of the best moments ever!
Even though I didn’t understand much of the joking, everyone was laughing, and it was my birthday
And I wasn’t so scared then that my mom didn’t get to come home for my birthday; like she promised
Magic
My cousin, 7, said the Easter bunny was a hoax
What is a hoax I wondered, a giant rabbit maybe
The boy behind me in the 2nd grade passed a note
It read, Only babies believe in Santa Claus, do you?
My brother, 11, said the tooth fairy didn’t lose her way
She may come tonight, he scoffed, but she isn’t real
Each time these truths were forced upon my ears
I grew up and was uncomfortable in my little girl heart
That little girl’s heart didn’t disappear for good, it lay
In wait to give what it could in the way of magic
Tucking secret presents under a tree, hiding candy filled
baskets, stealthily placing quarters under sleeping heads
Even if sometimes the magic isn’t what was expected
Maybe wasn’t quite the first choice, or even the second
Sometimes what isn’t real, those fairy dust creations
Make the uglier truths just a bit easier to bare, for both
If you tell me they are hoaxes, unreal, and only for babies
I will understand with my big girl brain that knows the truth
But my heart, beating as an aunt, and now as a mom
Will say those who don’t believe, don’t ever truly receive
I Wait to Talk to a Teacher
We are both waiting, quietly observing
She calm, her coat zipped right to the top
Her pink suede boots with satin ribbon laces, dangle
Where is the aunt, her mom, maybe dad, today
The secretaries try the numbers, no answers
One mentions the books she can look at
Does she want to unzip her coat, another asks
You look uncomfortable with it up so high
No, it isn’t hurting me, see? Her chin held high
While she waits sweetly, her blonde curly hair
A wild frame for her little angelic face that stares
Straight ahead, what thoughts behind still eyes
Picking up a book she only holds its sleeve out
Where are the pictures she wonders aloud, not
To me specifically, just for anyone, she is now
Concerned about where they might be,
The people who love her, I touch the book
Explaining it is kept nice by that outside cover
She leafs uncomfortably through its pages
The phone rings, She’s right here, is the response
The secretary indicates, dad is out in the parking lot
Come on, says the secretary, I will walk you out to him
She doesn’t move. She stares ahead at the window
I see him now, too, a young dad smiling, amiable
They say, is that your daddy,
When he comes through the office door She turns her head, hesitates
Taking a big long look, she nods jumping off the chair
She is the sweetest little thing, I tell him
The secretary says, yes, I could take her home with me
Our reminders to her of her specialness, and to dad
Please don’t forget her someday when there is no
Warm office, lovely secretaries, and a mom who waits
Breakfast with Buse 