CRIBBAGE LESSONS
by Susan Johnson
The summer Dad decided it was time
I learned crib, counting fifteen two,
fifteen four, I loved doing the sums
in my head, tallying up the pairs,
runs, as if life were arithmetic,
which at six it was. Going into
second grade, the owner of three
hand-me-down bathing suits from
one sister, two cousins, I went
swimming five times a day and at
the general store one mile away,
bought a dime’s worth of penny
candy from a woman who had to
be a hundred. In four years mom
would have her mastectomy; in ten
she’d be dead. We didn’t know any
of that then. Just that it all adds up
until it doesn’t. Then you’re skunked.
—from Rattle #85, Fall 2024
Susan Johnson: “I spent my childhood being outside as much as possible and trying to solve the many puzzles that made up my life. I do the same as an adult, only now it’s language that I use to work through and understand what I encounter. I’m also more accepting when it doesn’t quite add up.”
