Womanhood by Catherine Anderson

She slides over

the hot upholstery

of her mother’s car,

this schoolgirl of fifteen

who loves humming & swaying

with the radio.

Her entry into womanhood

will be like all the other girls’–

a cigarette and a joke,

as she strides up with the rest

to a brick factory

where she’ll sew rag rugs

from textile strips of kelly green,

bright red, aqua.

When she enters,

and the millgate closes,

final as a slap,

there’ll be silence.

She’ll see fifteen high windows

cemented over to cut out light.

Inside, a constant, deafening noise

and warm air smelling of oil,

the shifts continuing on. . .

All day she’ll guide cloth along a line

of whirring needles, her arms & shoulders

rocking back & forth

with the machines–

200 porch size rugs behind her

before she can stop

to reach up, like her mother,

and pick the lint

out of her hair.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

Create a website or blog at WordPress.com

Up ↑

%d bloggers like this: