Our Camp (Barry Sons-Berwick, LA)

It sat on a barge of three inch planks, painted red led, solid as a tank

Papas’ house is what it was; the curved roof house on the big red barge.

In it he was quite content, so from November to March was spent.

Setting traps, running lines, breaking ice in bitter cold. Skinning

Tearing hides off carcasses, popping dry and stretching pelts.

Sometimes hides drying over our beds when he didn’t build a drying shed.

Waking to the smell of biscuits, myrtle burning in the stove. Throwing

Mud balls at my sisters, running Lollie when it wasn’t cold. Exploring

bayous in piroques. That’s how I spent my winters in the curved roof

house on the big red barge
NOT FOR SALE.

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