Women's History Month - A retrospective, prospective perspective of women who shape me

1924
When the only work is packing tomatoes
you put your daughter in a long dress
and pull a hat down over her face
so they can’t tell she’s only eight,
because five cents a pail isn’t much,
but at least they hire Italians.



Pokey and Nat
Natalie wears green every day
and socks only on Sunday.
“Got ta dress for Jesus”, she says,
tossing her head like the women
who argue with their men about other women.

Her arms are exactly the color of pecan shell,
but soft, and ashy at the elbows.
I like the way they tumble in the mirror
when she’s fixing my hair for braids.

“Pokey,” she says, “gonna give you some nice braids today”,
and I think maybe today.
Maybe today,
maybe today,
but I open my eyes to the same scrappy rabbit-hair as always.

The gumball barrettes clacking around her head
are what get me thinking that Natalie is too much for one body.
It’s her crammed in self that comes busting out
all wild like joy in her laugh and her voice
and her eyes that can’t nothin hide from,

and her past is the only thing quiet about her.

Sally Bacchetta 2004