The Lie
Mother is in the hospital
for an operation
and Grandma Sanderson
has come to take care of us.
She’s strict.
If I’m two minutes
late from play,
she grips my wrist tightly
and swings me to a chair
to think about it.
I skin my knee
and get a deep cut.
She looks worried.
“When you go to school,
ask the nurse what to do.”
On the way home,
I remember I’ve forgotten.
I know this is more serious
than being late from play.
I imagine a spanking,
early to bed for a week,
or extra work on Saturday.
She asks me what the nurse said.
“Wash it very carefully
with soap and water,
dry it, put on vaseline
and then place a band-aid over the top.”
(That’s what Mother
would have said,
except she’d use
iodine which stings.)
-Donald Graves
Mother is in the hospital
for an operation
and Grandma Sanderson
has come to take care of us.
She’s strict.
If I’m two minutes
late from play,
she grips my wrist tightly
and swings me to a chair
to think about it.
I skin my knee
and get a deep cut.
She looks worried.
“When you go to school,
ask the nurse what to do.”
On the way home,
I remember I’ve forgotten.
I know this is more serious
than being late from play.
I imagine a spanking,
early to bed for a week,
or extra work on Saturday.
She asks me what the nurse said.
“Wash it very carefully
with soap and water,
dry it, put on vaseline
and then place a band-aid over the top.”
(That’s what Mother
would have said,
except she’d use
iodine which stings.)
-Donald Graves