Wash Day
"Cindy can't read
and that's a fact,"
says Cindy standing
out over the tub
washing away
the days at school
so different from
familiar days at home -
minding bairns,
sweeping out the trailer,
helping ma -
scrubbing fiercely at
each taunt, each cruel name,
each moment of discrimination,
confidence ebbing,
suds slopping
and sinking
into dark gravel;
"No, Cindy can't read."
Ann Sharples
2 comments:
brilliant and sad and so true and your sheep, so sweet. xoxox
This poem is really sad but seeing as you have had an insight in the traveller's world, it's very true.
Great piece.
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