American Life in Poetry

Here’s a lovely poem for the caregivers among us, by Terri Kirby Erickson, who lives in North Carolina.

Sponge Bath

Draped in towels,

my grandmother sits in a hard-backed

chair, a white bowl

of soapy water on the floor.

She lifts her frail arm, then rests it,

gratefully, in her daughter’s palm.

Gliding a wet

washcloth, my mother’s hand

becomes a cloud, and every bruise, a rain-

drenched flower.