and their little brother Sonny but they were busy
for a long time on the top floor of that old barn
at the edge of their dad's property and finally
one day led me up the stairs into what had been
the hayloft and removed the bandana they'd
tied across my eyes as a blindfold and there
was the most beautiful playhouse I'd ever seen,
they'd made little curtains for the windows with
a matching tablecloth for the table and cups
and saucers and beds for us and small beds
for the dolls and a wash basin and a vase
filled with wild chives and white lilacs and empty
cans for canned goods and nails in the wall
for our coats, I used to believe all the babies
Mrs. Lee lost when they quit breathing and turned
blue were the lucky ones until I saw the rag rugs
on the floor of the playhouse and the bookshelf
and the Bible and even a newspaper for when
we could get Sonny to play father.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem