A short man pushes a tall man toward Ruby,

taunting, You’re a good-lookin’ gal—

you need a man? Here’s one for you.

Ruby holds her banner high, ignoring them,

even when the tall man stumbles and falls

in front of her. The short man doesn’t help him up;

he laughs and says, Elmer here, he falls for every

pretty girl he sees, then looks around, expecting us to laugh

at this pathetic joke. When no one, including Elmer,

does, he grabs a banner and runs off with it.

Five bucks is five bucks, he hollers back,

as Elmer scrambles to his feet and follows him.

(Someone is paying these men to torment

the picketers? Five dollars for a stolen

banner? Where are the police?)

The crowd grows larger, noisier. I’m relieved

when the police arrive, assuming they’ll arrest

the most belligerent of these men—those two,

who have obviously been drinking, or that one,

shaking his fist in Lucinda Schultz’s face.

Yes, two officers approach Lucinda, take her

by both arms, and escort her away from the drunken man.

(She does not appear to appreciate their protection.)

You’re under arrest, they say (what? to her?)

as the man who has been threatening her

laughs and walks away. Ruby is left alone,

trying to hold the banner by herself—

I pause only for a second before

stepping in and picking up the other side

as Lucinda grips the police wagon’s iron bars

and Ruby asks the officer, What is she charge with?

He replies, The same as usual: obstructing traffic.

But we’re not obstructing anything—

we’re standing well back on the sidewalk,

and the traffic is obstructed only by the

crowd. Why don’t the police control

the crowd? A WOMAN’S PLACE IS IN THE HOME.

A man holds up a wide, flat board with that slogan

scrawled across it in large letters, and something

I can’t quite read in small writing below it. A plank

for your platform, he taunts. He waves the board

at Ruby and me—we pretend not to notice.

The crowd surges forward, meaner now.

I squint to read the small words on the plank:

BAREFOOT AND PREGNANT IN THE KICHEN

(he can’t spell “kitchen”). I think: Papa

and Mr. Norman—with Frank and Ollie’s help—

built the barn in twenty days, nailing down

each plank so carefully. (How will Ollie

use a hammer now?) These men are neither

building anything nor fighting overseas.

Much as I despise the war, I despise

them even more. I face the man and

speak. My voice is clear and strong:

You are a lazy coward.

Ruby stares at me, the look

on her face my only warning—

the man raises the plank

above his head

(he’s tall, I’m short);

the board cracks

on my head …

my knees buckle …

loud buzzing …

black … spinning stars …

distant voices …

Sash Abandoned in the Snow / Muriel