third grade
once i was a girl in muddy socks reading about maidens in dire distress making miniature hats out of box tops and bottle caps and wondering if mama really saw wickhams ghost in the corner candy store where my pennies piled up between licorice and lollipops as i searched the dark corners scanned the dusty shelves.
the neighborhood children thought i was happy but happy children lived in orphanages and watched circulating circuses while cabbages from kind ladies rotted on the sidewalk.
the neighborhood children sucked sugar through little black sacks and envied me my bag of purple grapes, the cakes my mother baked. i turned from their round brown eyes. they did not know two men would come and take her to the madhouse before the cakes were finished baking.
copyright2001 Irene Drennan |