rubber bands

hair hangs over my face
brushes my neck
annoying
I consider getting up and checking
the drawer in the bathroom
where I put the big card of black
covered bands for my hair
weeks ago when I bought it
dammit, I'll be able to find this
how much bigger could it be?


of course
the drawer probably has the
nail strengthener I've been looking for
in every drawer in the house
including that one
for days
pink manicured nails cracking, peeling
no lady I

there will be no bands
meanwhile
I'll have to get up
damnit

I lift my right wrist
there it is !
Next to the silver bracelet
I have been wearing for days
I learned about just putting on some piece
and leaving it until I am tired of it
from Mexican women

Praise my mother!
I tie back my hair




Suddenly Mother's wrist is there
she picked up rubber bands all over the house
from the rolled newspapers
Daddy brought home


Los Angeles Mirror
or the The Herald, The Times
or the evening
Los Angeles Examiner lying
on the green lawn with the rosebush in the middle
when Daddy got home in the evening scented with ocean breeze

Daddy dug the hole in the middle in the lawn
and planted it the little bush with his own freckled hands
it was still there when they tore the house down
to expand the magic elementary school across the street
with the huge pine in front

my brother hung from the highest branch one Saturday
three stories up
we children just looked
Phillip's hanging!
I prayed he wouldn't fall

Anyway she picked up those bands
and safety pins from the baby's diapers
all over the house
stuck the pins to her shirt
and pulled the bands over her right wrist
they were always there
except when she put on her heels
to run to the bus for work

I have no clue what she did with the rubber bands
the pins as I said
were for the infinite diapers
of nine children
one after another
from age 30 to 40
I'm sure they removed the bands when they carried her hemorraging
from the house over and over
I pull back my middle class hair
and think of my mother
my dad and his infinite newspapers
magazines
Life, Look, Saturday Evening Post

sitting on the stool in the kitchen
talking to my mother
drinking
and reading
man of the house
we children waited silently for him to finish
so we could have the comics
the magazine

he brought us back
Little Golden Books
from his evening walks
Mother hid James Baldwin under her mattress because
he was not okay reading for children
The Fire Next Time
I stole it, read it while she was at work
put it back