WASHINGTON, DC, 1972
Three years ago, intricate math helped two astronauts walk
on the moon and get safely back to Earth.
Now Edna works with a calculator that fits in her hand,
hears talk of computers that might fit on a lap
instead of a floor.
This seems far-fetched, but it’s a time of change and hope.
The nation’s capital is often alive with protests,
including marches for equality in schools
no longer segregated, but not yet fair.
New laws are passed.
Title IX brings new chances for girls and women.
Still, the people who first lived on this continent
often seem forgotten. Some celebrate Native Americans
of long ago, while looking past the living.
We’re here, Edna wants to say with her work,
and crosses the country for a job with Head Start.
She means to make sure that Native American children
have breakfasts, blocks, and good books,
not in just one home or school, but across the nation.
She works hard, tries to ignore the way aches
in her shoulders and legs come, go, then last longer.
Her ankles swell and stiffen, making it hard to walk to work.
She misses the canyons and big sky,
but likes the capital’s white buildings,
with straight and unbending pillars,
doorways and windows symmetrical as sunflowers.
Stone stairs are numbered with intention.