Mother sent me for a bag
of beef broth bones. She’ll dig
potatoes and other roots, carry
water from the well. Never mind
what’s down there or who
put him in. That woman in fox
pushes in front of me, buys a fat pig,
Argentine chocolate, Basque cheese,
a whole side of veal, tongue,
brains, sweetbreads, cream,
raisins, eggs, a sack of flour.
Mother says Father can’t afford
a new axe or a new jacket,
yet she cut up the old one
for a vest and night caps.
Bought new red cloth.
Made me this cloak.