What Life Was Like

Clothing was worn until it could be jigsawed
into quilts or woven into rugs. Seamstress schools
were set up in ladies’ living rooms when husbands
didn’t come home. Children were dying of curiosity
and a shortage of anti-venom. Blood banks sorted us
like this—black pint, white pint—when it was quite red.
The newscasters would interrupt this program.
Cinema was scored with shrieks and theremins.
People dreamed of aliens. Espionage was chic,
as was talk of rocket ships. New vacuums came out
in bright pea green. We all wanted sea-monkeys.
We had etiquette classes. We ate teacakes.
We put on nightgowns after overfull evenings.
Waiting and waiting was the hardest part.