Mama and the Clothesline/Tuckahoe 2001

She bent slowly, grabbin the damp

bedsheet from the laundry basket.

then stood, arms stretched

so nothin touched the ground.

Mama snapped the sheet in the

wind to scare the wrinkles out,

took the splinterin clothespin and

stuck it on the thin line runnin

cross the parkin lot. all our stuff

danced on display but the drawers.


We headed back to the basement to

wash the next load and she watched

me run behind her, her brown eyes

soft and laughin. this time, Mama

let me hold the quarters and the

whole buildin could hear me.

skippin and jinglin.

Edythe Rodriguez is a Philly-based poet who studied Africology and creative writing at Temple University. She loves neo-soul, battle rap, and long walks through old poetry journals. She has received fellowships from The Watering Hole, Brooklyn Poets, and Palm Beach Poetry Festival. Her work is a call for aggressive healing and is published in Obsidian, Sonku, Call and Response Journal and Bayou Magazine.