Peasant Woman

by Phil Flott

Mama saved money for Daddy

in her worry of scarcity.

She used soap until the bar was a toothpick, 

made us bring home today’s bread wrapper

for tomorrow’s lunch and the day after,

sucked the marrow out of soup bones

so she didn’t require the cost of solid food.

Ma’s dresses were Salvation Army rejects.

Make-up signaled

events of cosmic importance.

Ma died and in his grief

Dad found stashed quarters

from the soap,

nickels from unused wax paper,

new dresses to give Sis,

three to four thousand cash

to assuage Dad in his loss.

This ease for Dad she premeditated, 

arranged to his gain.

She never recognized

the low-hanging fruit

on Eden’s trees,

never saw the apples there.

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Phil Flott is a retired Catholic priest who is delighted for the opportunity to work on his poetry. His writing has appeared in Passager, Pensive, Time of Singing, Rockford Review, and Sangam.