Peg Conway
Where I’m From #17
By Peg Conway
Inspired by George Ella Lyon
I am from cartoons on Saturday morning,
from Oreos dipped in milk and
Campbell’s chicken noodle soup heated in the copper-bottomed pot
then slurped from the spoon.
I am from the house with brown pillars that reach for the sky.
From the weeping willow tree whose branches, like feathers,
dangle to the ground,
from the ever-present absence that my mom’s death left behind.
I am from coloring books and 24 Crayola shades that never felt like enough,
from pining for the box of 64 that came with its own sharpener.
From Barbie dolls and…
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