Edmonia tosses dust and ashes in buckets
she tucks behind the kitchen door. Every day
she sweeps away signs that anyone was here.
Mrs. Child looks up from the suspenders
she knits for soldiers. My back doesn’t bend
the way it did when I was young. I’m thankful
to have help, but now that you’ve been here a month,
I should point out that Mr. Child and I don’t make
so much work that we can’t spare you part of each day.
You’d be wise to earn something to put aside.
Girls your age think about little but weddings,
but every young lady should be prepared
to earn her own way. No one can tell what may happen.
I know. Memory traps and snares words
spoken over teacups, and warns
about the future she means to keep small,
like a stone in her hands.
I married a respected lawyer, but he takes only
virtuous clients, who often don’t have a dime to pay him.
I’m grateful I can write books and spin rhymes. But
we were talking about you. Mrs. Child’s knitting needles
clatter. Perhaps you could teach girls and boys their ABCs.
No one would trust me with their children.
Goodness, no one listens to old stories.
But perhaps you could work with dear Mrs. Bannister
who tends to the hair of distinguished colored women.
Her husband is quite an accomplished painter.
A colored man is an artist?
The girl Edmonia used to be catches
the scents of clay, plaster, and paint.
I believe he even makes a living at it, with the help
of his hardworking wife. A good Christian woman.
I might persuade her to take you on as an apprentice.
Maybe I could be a painter.
Mrs. Child clears her throat. Of course there should
be more than one colored artist, and why not women,
too, though I’m sure I’d be scolded for saying so.
But I’m afraid your future is uncertain enough.
Edmonia nods good-bye to the girl who mixed paints.
Back when I wove mats and beaded belts,
my aunts said I had clever hands and eyes.
In Oberlin, we stitched blue shirts for soldiers.
You can sew? Mrs. Child’s face brightens.
It’s a tragedy how many girls today are brought up
without learning how to use a needle.
I know ladies with dresses to repair.
It’s important to be useful.
Your work needn’t be glamorous. Useful rarely is.