C h a r l e s F u r e y & G a r t h H a g e r m a n
Back Then
Back then in early April at the first real break in the weather when mothers stripped frost torn clothes lines from fence posts and wove hanks of new white rope back and forth across the clean swept yards their young daughters seized the tangled gray lines and dragged them down the alleyway and out to the front steps and cut them into proper lengths with pinking shears and paring knives and leapt onto the smooth black asphalt and soft breezes sifted through the budding trees and the jump-ropes thrummed and the leather soled shoes lisped and shuffled and the girls chanted “Down the Miss is sip pi where the steam boats PUSH” their mesmerizing song droning on and on until daylight faded and the whirling webs stopped and they were all called home to their suppers.