Easter’s Dues

[dukealien]

Easter’s Dues

Easter dew,
Trailer rusted, fogged.

Worn hot irons—  couldn't decide if these were flatirons (for clothes) or curling irons... either works
mother’s calloused hands.

Stained spiraled shells,
cheap cracked carton.  delightful alliterations in these lines... I saw pasta shells, then eggs.

Scrambled—
soulful warming yellow.   

Starving suppers.   Yes, no side meat.

Mother's Sunday love—
our babies alike.  Interesting line

Soft stinky fingers,
richer—
we still find gratitude.

On second reading, I assembled this into eating the Easter eggs.  No basket, no rabbit, no foil-wrapped chocolate.

This is very good, the atmosphere effectively established with no description as such.  Just characterizing things.

I haven't decoded "our babies alike."  In church, comparing kids?  Thinking of Mary at the cross, both in heaven?  Mother's and older daughter's children of an age?

Looking again, were the "hot irons" hot plates, i.e. single-element electric cooker?

This is the kind of poem that takes a lot from what the reader brings.  I have no real suggestions, only my reactions... which may help improve it by reinforcing or, more likely, by guiding away from unintended interpretations.

Thank you for posting - very evocative.