Checkers, 1976
Granny etched our board
into the earth.
Dirt paper with a stick pencil.
Barefoot
we collected our pieces:
snail shells found by dusty feet,
then washed cold
from creekside mussel hunting.
The water rose.
Our pawns turned into boats.
Checkers are meant for smart folk,
we were too poor.
But Granny had buttons
in her wicker sewing basket.
She placed them on the brown inside
of a Sugar Chex cereal box
and we were rich again.
6 thoughts on "Checkers, 1976"
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Beautiful imagery, Jazmine.
Thank you for your kind words!
Jazmine, you have a good and powerful message in your poem that touches many generations throughout Appalachia.
Thank you! I am happy it is relatable.
When times get desperate, people get creative, and when things go bad, they just find another way. I really enjoyed this poem.
Thank you! You are exactly right. Desperation inspires creativity.