Daddy Had Girls
August sun,
Leaves smell of heat,
You can hear the holly hocks turn to seed.
The pile of trimmed twigs snap as they dry.
Sister paints the cross pieces
The top of the board
The flat
And the underside
I come behind and paint the broad, flat boards
With long strokes up and down,
Back and forth.
Paint drips on my hand.
Hair tied back in kerchiefs,
Hot,
Sweaty,
The paint smells hot as the sun dries it.
Huckleberry Finn’s fence,
But Daddy had girls.
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