elnido(layingclaim)

Laying Claim . . . . .

This is my desk.
I put it together myself.
It is mine. I work here.
I work here until my back
hurts and my neck prays
for mercy.
I work here when I don’t
know how to do
what it is I do
or what to do
when it is done.
This desk is mine,
it makes me happy
to look at it from
across the room.
I find its color
and shape pleasing,
and its usefulness
something I would never
dared dream could be true.
This is my desk.

This is my rocking chair.
I rocked my first-born here.
I rocked, I nursed,
I sang to, I chatted with.
I played with her toes here.
I held her in pink blankets,
in sleepers with plastic feet.
I held her when I was weary
and did not know
how to be a mother.
I held her when she cried,
when her nose was drippy.
I rocked her to sleep here.
I held her until she was
too big to hold,
until we could no longer
fit into the same chair.
Nothing could make me
part with this rocking chair.
It is mine.

1984