when i was very small…
When I was very small
The Blue Boy hung in
the living room, a space
where nothing really
happened. In contrast
the laundry room hugged
the backend of our house,
a nook snugged with weary
washer and dryer, two
reliable appliances who
along with our blue-collar
family of four witnessed
the black spaniel with gray
streaked ears give birth in
a cardboard box to damp
wonder my brother and I
held with trembling hands.
Our eyes were the stars
over that nativity, stars wide
and alive, like a smile of great
sweetness breaking out
over dusk’s blue dew.
a living room where nothing really happens. That’s some line.
Some people might call it a parlor…that front welcoming room housed with things boys can break…thanks for stopping by, LLB.
I’m with LL – that is some line. And the whole poem is gorgeously layered with a kind of sweet/sad nostalgia. Thank you.
Diana, you’re welcome…the cocker’s name was Tootsie, and I miss her from time to time.
Intrigued by the blue boy you speak of. Funny how my mind goes to gilded crucifixes. 🙂 “The stars over that nativity” I felt in the gut.
Exquisite, John. Looking forward to that chapbook.
My grandparents had Blue Boy and Pinkie hanging over their couch. They seemed like family members at the time, but I haven’t thought about them in years. Thanks for the memory.