By Kathy Wagenknecht

I write my memoirs as a gift
the eldest of the family
left to tell the tales

Ma’s polkadot mop-cap
covered scarlet fever hair
Pa’s stepmother fed her son but
scraps for her husband’s six boys
Dad a brown sticky mess
after hanging on a cow’s tail
Mother crying in the corner at school
afraid of her shadow my aunt said

these telling stories left only to me
to tell or take with me