Mother used to spin from the stem of our old clothespole,
except as the paint dried at the first stirring of springtime.
Great-Grandpop strung rope from garage roof to porch hook
to shake out the clouds of socks and towels.
He built our homestead which still stands after decades—
though he’s long-buried, he’s a hero in mirrors and frames.
Great-Grandmom used to pin me too to swing from her lines
and I’d fling legs out and back
in the cirrus shapes stretched where wind flew her flags.
Circling our old clothespole in grass dark as pine,
Mother and I, both in our times, scaled the air to touch
the sunshine between us and abundant depths of sky.
Catherine Zickgraf has performed her poetry in Madrid, San Juan, and three dozen other cities, but now her main jobs are to hang out with her family and write poetry. Her work has appeared in Journal of the American Medical Association, Pank, Victorian Violet Press, and The Grief Diaries. Her new chapbook, Soul Full of Eye, is published through Aldrich Press and is available on Amazon.com. Watch and read more of her poetry at http://caththegreat.blogspot.com.