Friday, October 7, 2011
The White House
They were the Reagans
who live up the way
in the best house in those parts.
Their house smelled of milk
fresh laundry, and kids.
Mr. Reagan came home long
enough to make the Mrs. pregnant
again. She had twenty kids
for him and those kids would
do anything for her.
She was a sad woman, tiny,
frail. One child lay in a crib by
the stove. She was sixteen in diapers
and took the bottle. One boy was daft.
The rest of the kids worked the farm.
Mr. Reagan was
proud of what he did, how he
provided for his family. One day,
Rosalee,my friend, begged her mom
Don't let him in your bed again. You have
too many babies, Mama, it's going
to kill you!
Mrs. wouldn’t look at her baby, Hope,
when she was born. Everything
went perfectly, Mr. Reagan
announced. The Mrs. died the next day.