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GLIMMERINGS
In the beginning was the mother.
There were planets in her eyes.
In her mouth, there were glistening cliffs.
Behind the cliffs was a shiny red animal
Who popped out when she wanted it
And went right back in. It was her pet,
And entirely tame.
She could make the room
Blink night and day, just like eyes.
She was a great tree,
Holding the world in her branches
And everything on her was growing.
She had two pink tongues on her chest.
The child's own head was cornsilk
But the mother's was covered with vines.
She waved her hands over it;
It turned into a tail. She bent over,
There was a nice smell, the light went right out.
She stood in the door in front of a light,
She was entirely black, charred like a tree.
She stood in the door with the light falling
On her; she caught it in her hands.
She glowed like a bulb, electric,
She was an angel, she was hiding her wings.
Her arms and legs were covered with strange roots
That wiggled. The child knew they could grow
Deep down into the floor, and the mother
Could grow up and up, her hair
Spreading out and out, darkening into night.
Perhaps she did this every night
While the child was asleep. The child felt fortunate
The mother seemed to take an interest
In her little plot, where she was planted
Like a bush.
How she was watered!
How she was fed!
She prospered; she learned to walk.
She had no idea!
The mother had a room full of shiny white boxes.
Inside of one lived four small blue animals
With hot coats of fur you never could touch.
The mother could make them come and go
By twisting a button.
She could make them grow up, or down.
The child felt they were afraid of the mother.
Most of the time they hid.
The mother had boxes of sticks with red and blue heads.
She waved her hands over, and tiny blue babies
Made their appearance. They were just like the ones
On the shining white box, but they died right away,
"Burning down," said the mother,
Curling up like the new infant, still in his crib.
The mother threw them out, black little bodies,
Leaving their ashy flesh on her hands.
The child thought maybe they grew somewhere else later.
She hoped the four animals in the box did not take it badly.
The mother had nother box, empty,
Made of something just like her teeth.
The mother could make water come out of its neck
Whenever she wanted, and when she was through,
She just twisted it hard.
The child bgan to feel fear.
The mother could call up a lake
And put her right in it.
It was slippery, like teeth, and she felt a tongue.
Perhaps she would be left here forever.
The mother came and got her.
They went out for walks.
The mother would look slyly at the buildings
With the eye of a crow.
Finally, she came to the one that she wanted.
She gave something to the man sitting in a glass box.
He smiled back quite strangely.
Inside, it was dark.
People were sitting inside like pegs in a block.
The child knew better than to start crying now.
On the wall, there were fires, and rainstorms,
And animals that talked. In the air,
Was a pathway of light looking quite like a road
Though nothing walked on it.
The fires ran after the animals, and the animals
Ran away. Sometimes, the wall showed a witch
Cooking an apple. Sometimes,
It showed a girl lying in a glass case
And little men who watched it.
Then she came out of the box.
The mother looked well pleased.
When they went out, the mother knew how
To make men give her things from the glass cases.
The child was impressed, and also afraid.
When they got home, the mother turned on the water
And called up the four beasts called fire.
The child saw the mother could flood the whole place;
She saw herself sailing down the stairs
And into the street in her little yellow boat.
She often was bad.
She saw her mother's teeth start grinding an apple.
She waited all day, feeling afraid.
Nothing happened.
She bit into an apple,
And one of her teeth stuck right in it.
She broke another on a piece of water
Her mother had turned into ice.
The child began to feel fear of the mother
Watching her move about the house like a powerful wall,
Her hands full of switches.
She was beginning to be afraid.
She was beginning to be seen, and not heard.
She hoped the mother was nice. |
