Art Gallery
Poetry
The clay caked around them kept them cool,
And safe as I ran and snuck and crept around and around the house.
Hearing my own name called over as I evaded mum.
So good at pretending, I was,
That I could convince,
Even myself, that her voice was not there calling, searching.
The excitement was what would
Happen when I was out of breath
Caught in her arms and she
Would scold and chide.
Would she threaten a spanking,
Again, with a smile on her face,
And a laugh in her throat?
Or, would she force me clean?
Wriggling and splashing away from the soap.
But, what a surprise I could show her!
The thoughts trickled from my head.
Oh the surprise I could make!
I giggled in delight as I entered the house,
Climbed the flights of stairs.
My monkey limbs and dirty
Hands and feet pulled me onto the counter.
Just as mom does, like a big girl,
I would wash my own feet.
“Fuscha, fuscha,” pleasantly swishing
In warm soapy water that slimed around each toe.
Almost as good as dirt and mud.
Cool, cold water splashed onto my feet
So refreshing after all that
Running around, around the house.
The big bar of ivory
Slipped around in my fingers,
A greyish-brownish-greenish film on the soap
Mixed from my wet fingers.
But, there was a problem.
The water would not fill up the sink.
My fingers twisted and pressed at the plug.
The water ran, shhhhhhhh, in and out of the sink.
I turned the tap more,
Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
The water splashed on my “fuscha, fuscha” and out of the sink.
My soapy, slimy hands and feet
Mixed and splashed in the sink,
And on the counter, on the mirror,
The water splashed up
Greyish-brownish-greenish-bubblyish
Water streaked mirror.
I reached out a finger and poked.
My dirty finger left a blob of colour
On my mirror canvass.
I stared in awe of my creation.
Another and another line or circle or smear of colour
Appearing like magic
Underneath my fingers.
My masterpiece came to life.
Drips of colour ran down
Joining, mixing, making
The image one.
It was mine and I was so good!
Oh the surprise I could make!
I heard a sound, I remembered.
In my canvass I saw fear reflected.
This was not the right surprise.
The door opened.
Mum appeared and then left.
Out through the door she disappeared.
Was this masterpiece so bad?
A new punishment for me?
I had never been this bad before.
A new punishment.
I heard sounds of return.
Heart pounding,
Tears creeping up my eyes,
The door opened again.
Oh the surprise I could make!
Lights, camera, laughter, memory.
January 29, 2003
LLED 320
UBC
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