Station House
I.
Tonight our house is a crossroads.
Rocks clang against the walls
like gravel against carriage wheels.
Mama's in her room.
Daddy went to fetch the doctor.
I hope he gets back real soon--
these Virginia men know we have a guest.
II.
Daddy returns with reinforcements--
the doctor in his long black cape.
Hat pulled down low
conceals his face.
When the cold rain comes,
the hat and cape leave
and one by one the angry torches do too.
I.
Tonight our house is a crossroads.
Rocks clang against the walls
like gravel against carriage wheels.
Mama's in her room.
Daddy went to fetch the doctor.
I hope he gets back real soon--
these Virginia men know we have a guest.
II.
Daddy returns with reinforcements--
the doctor in his long black cape.
Hat pulled down low
conceals his face.
When the cold rain comes,
the hat and cape leave
and one by one the angry torches do too.
Berries
In supplication my child tugs
my pink pajamas
adding a monosyllable
for me to bring him to my hip.
When he wakes, he crawls
around my head,
blows raspberries against my face,
and giggles—pure
uncultured, uncivilized
burst of sound
I must remember
when a tuft of my hair appears
in his hands or he commits another
noncompliant act.
I must breathe in . . .
harken back.
In supplication my child tugs
my pink pajamas
adding a monosyllable
for me to bring him to my hip.
When he wakes, he crawls
around my head,
blows raspberries against my face,
and giggles—pure
uncultured, uncivilized
burst of sound
I must remember
when a tuft of my hair appears
in his hands or he commits another
noncompliant act.
I must breathe in . . .
harken back.
Michele Reese is an associate professor of English at the University of South Carolina Sumter and the director for the South Carolina Center for Oral Narration. Reese's first book of poetry Following Phia was published by WordTech Editions. Her poetry has appeared in The Paris Review, Poet's Lore, and Smartish Pace.