housewife

the smell of my mom 

iron steam on cotton clothes

before the day 

of synthetics.  

the sound of my mom 

listening, listening  

harry belafonte on the phonograph 

and the iron's hissing. 

i never knew 

till after she was dead 

my mom had a job 

editor for a womens' magazine she was

before my dad and she were wed.

the memory of my mom 

housewife, cleanser of boys' tongues. 

her gifts to us were these 

grammar and lilt of words

when my bros and I were young.