Issue Twenty-Three - Winter 2014

Flour Sack Towels

By Cheryl Weibye Wilke

I wasn’t born in Brooklyn,
or Boston, or San Francisco, or
somewhere equally as interesting
with its well-storied, cobblestone
streets and brownstones. I was
born on the flatland prairies
of the Midwest. Flyover fodder
for coastal trendies. A place
where John Deere tractors
rumble. The smell
of hot iron and grease
is thick and slick as rain
on the welder’s floor. The furrows
in fields deep enough to grow
the seeds of children. No city
girl, I gently fold
and store flour sack towels
like a grandmother. These domestic
cloths are all about where you
come from, who you are, and where
you are going. They travel light, but
their handiwork is heavy.

Copyright 2014 Wilke

©2007-2017 SHARK REEF :: All works © by their respective Authors :: Like us on Facebook

WordPress Theme by Cloud Islands ::