and clothed and cared for—that also takes a kind of pluck.

Bluebird Stitched in Such Detail / December 1917

Bluebird Stitched in Such Detail

December 1917

We Have Reason to Believe / Muriel

We Have Reason to Believe

Muriel

Aunt Vera sends me a small parcel—

a box of suffrage pins and fliers, a program

from a speech she heard, along with a three-page

letter, all about her work. I’m fully recovered,

and all the prisoners have been released,

but I’ve decided to stay here and see this through.

A vote comes up in Congress on January 10th.

We have reason to believe the president

will offer his support this time! Everyone here sends

greetings to you, Muriel, asking when you

will return. Ruby asked me to enclose her letter—

consider what she asks of you. We need

all hands on deck these coming weeks,

and I would love to see you be a part

of what could be a historic time for women.

Whatever you decide—thank you for coming

in November. Your presence helped me

more than I can say. Give my love

to everyone in Michigan. With fond affection

(and power to women everywhere!),

Aunt Vera.

My Friend Miss Muriel / Muriel

My Friend Miss Muriel

Muriel

Dear Muriel, Ruby writes, I’m glad to hear

you make it safely home, and that your sister

is recover from her flu. I won’t beat the bush—

is that how you say it? I hope you

think about come back to Washington.

She says they need an assistant kindergarten

teacher, and if I want the job, it’s mine! Remember

Joey, the little boy who not could tie his shoes?

Now, every time he tie them, he say, “My friend

Miss Muriel teach me how.” I haven’t told Mama

much about my trip yet, and she’s full of questions:

Who is Ruby? How did you meet her?

Where does she live? Does Vera know her?

I put the letter in my pocket while I take my time

to think this through. In the kitchen, making rolls

with Grace and Mama, I let my thoughts go back and forth

from here (What if Grace gets sick again, and I’m not here

to help?) to Washington (Ruby says I would be paid

enough to support myself if I live where she lives—

a room is vacant now, and I could have it).

Ollie/Joey. Ruby/Emma. Mama and Papa/

Aunt Vera and the other suffrage women.

Grace—nothing in Washington comes close

to balancing how I’d miss Grace. I go out to feed the hens,

scattering these thoughts as I scatter corn, then climb

Cobb Hill to see if any answers come to me.

I look out over our two farms—

there’s Mr. Norman coming home from work,

stopping at the clothesline to kiss Mrs. Norman

and help her hang the sheet she’s struggling with.

I think about Grace—I left her sitting