Apron
for Alice Pullen Hanna, 1914-1970
I sleep burrowed in gingham,
a cabbage roll swallowed
in a mix of stove grease
and her own warm
uncorseted scent,
unspoken balm,
quiet like the still
before a Dog Day storm.
Church hymns spoon
heat in the summer kitchen
and Hoosier light,
savory from the night sun,
shines from the back door
out through the front.
Tess Kincaid
May, 2011
Posted over on her site Willow Manor
Listed as #1 over on Magpie Tales 64
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