Poetry by Katharyn Howd Machan
Old idea, a hope chest. Girls already
diligent wives in fond imagination.
No dreams of travel, friendship, books,
deep treasure of solitude.
My mother’s mother started mine:
wedding quilt, baby blanket,
dainty towels with crocheted edges,
tablecloth hemmed with her love.
Oh, I understand her gifts!
She wants her world to be mine.
And I’ll lay them all aside with care
as I repack that flowered trunk.
My future’s shaped by a wide hill
overlooking Cayuga Lake.
There I’ll study more than she
could ever think a girl should need–
but in my sleeve, to honor her,
I’ll tuck the handkerchief she’s stitched
with tiny violets, purple and bright,
small daisies opening into sun.
Katharyn Howd Machan has been writing and publishing poetry for half a century. She lives and teaches in Ithaca, New York with her beloved spouse and fellow poet Eric Machan Howd. She directed the Feminist Women’s Writing Workshops, Inc., and served as Tompkins County’s first poet laureate. She belly dances.
