(c) 2015
I am from wood spoons deep
in cookie dough,
from C & H sugar and Karo syrup.
I am from normal; not from natural.
I am from asbestos-tiled homes
and kids who looked like me.
From kick-the-can on summer evenings
and walking home after dark to watch
black and white T.V.
I had fluoride-fortified teeth,
iodine-stained knees
and sipped heated whiskey
to burn out the flu.
Mothers collected aprons
and read Westerns—
where rape was codified as romance.
Good girls keep their legs shut.
I am from drafts and protests.
I hid a box under my bed—
report cards with one C after another,
ribbons and badges
for memorizing bible verses, sewing pillowcases,
believing domestic skills would save me.
