Innocence in a Year of Momentous Events: 1945-1946
April 12
My tonsils are gone!
I snuggle in a red chenille robe
anticipating Amos ‘n’ Andy, but instead
solemn music from the radio fills the room.
Mother cries. Father looks stunned.
I don’t understand.
May 8
Our neighbor backs her car over Ruggles.
Mother says Mrs. B didn’t see her pup,
as she hurried from home to attend
the Service of Thanksgiving.
I cry, Why? Why?
August 14
Lynette and I march up and down West Sixth,
the sounds from our toy drums drowned
by the cacophony of church bells.
Later, as ministers drone in the stifling heat,
I am crushed at the end of a pew,
and my short dress does not shield
my legs from sticky varnish.
March 5
I stand on the curb as the parade passes,
my back pressed against Mother.
There’s wild applause, and Mr. Churchill,
high above on a float, is smiling and waving
his cigar to the drumbeat of the band.
At supper when Father mentions an iron curtain,
I think of Mother pressing our striped drapes.
