Gran can I play a song on that,
Lil one reaches high, thinking
of some folks he saw one homecoming day,
thinking of a washtub and a jugpipe band on tv,
Old woman's laugh bubbles up and down
As she reaches him the old washboard
See here, she said, this board
Was made for washing clothes.
No, he said, it's for music made,
And Gran let thought go back and forth
on the ridges of years,
Do you play this, gran?
the little guy looks up and up,
taps a fingernail against the board,
I used to play your momma's dresses
Across those ridges,
Use to play the miner clothes your grandpa wore,
Played the neighbor's clothes all one Springtime
When money was low,
Played a song that dried in a cold wind,
I played my songs hard for awhile
Trying to wash one pure note back to the sky.
(From a writing prompt Joy gave to me one day last fall -- she said "Write about a washboard").
No comments:
Post a Comment