the bible salesman

how easy it was
for your mother to let in
a salesman.
your father on some ship
for months.
the fuller brush man,
encyclopedia Britannica,
how open she was to any man
stepping inside
the crowded house,
children knee high,
one in her arm,
the others fighting
in the yard. dogs barking.
come in she'd say.
coffee? and set out
a plate of something
as they unfolded their
wares on the table.
she'd put the child down
and brush back her hair,
smooth lipstick on
and listen to
the bible salesman,
slick as a seal and handsome,
a black suit, white
shirt, a thin blue tie.
how many bibles did
your mother need
for him to keep
returning, he hardly
knocked anymore as he
pet your dog,
learning all your names,
around so often
until your father
returned home from the sea.