Bingo
Saturday night
Dad washed, I dried
the supper dishes
while Mom armed herself
for Early Bird bingo at seven
in the church basement:
her lucky piece
(a smooth quarter she'd won the first time out),
seat cushion,
and a White Owls box of pink plastic markers.
Dad read the paper
watched TV with me
until Mom returned,
announcing her triumph with a door slam
and a shout
"I was hot!"
Flinging her hat,
twirling out of her jacket,
she pulled dollar bills
from her pockets
before setting them free
to flutter like fat spring snow.
"Ninety-two dollars!" she squealed
as Dad hugged her off the floor.
"Ninety-two dollars!"
In bed I listened to
mumbled voices
planning to spend the money--
on groceries
school clothes
a leaky radiator--
and wished she'd buy
a shiny red dress
long white gloves
and clickety-click high heels.
In Janeczo, Paul, ed. The Place My Words are Looking For: What Poets Say About
and Through their Work. New York: Bradbury Press, 1990.
Introduction- In the book, Janeczko describes how he came to write "Bingo." He thinks of
it as a love poem, with everyone wanting the best for those they love.
Extension- Suggest that children write this sort of "love poem," whether about family,
pets, or friends. It could be free verse, like Janeczko's, or a more traditional form, if they prefer.
