THE MOTHER'S CURSES

The Mother's house was always well stocked with curses.
She stored them in the cabinet, neatly stacked

In jars of spinach and corn; they lay just under
The protective layer of wax over the strawberry jam,

But the most powerful and the best
Were kept in rows of ice cubes, neat in their trays.

These her child was forbidden to touch,
But she had seen them, and frozen in each one

Was a tiny child, looking just like herself.
The Mother was keeping these for emergencies;

She was biding her time. Whenever the child was bad,
The Mother would go to the box, and say,

"May you have a child just like you,"
And threaten to pull out the plug, and the child

Would be beside herself with fear. Finally,
The child grew up and had a Child,

And the mother was happy. Then the child grew afraid
And went to the icebox of the Mother.

Sure enough, one of the cubes was gone;
The mother stood by, licking her lips.

The child began to examine her child as if she were something
That lived on a slide. She tried coaxing the sun

Into her monocle, and into her magnifying glass;
There was no doubt about it: the resemblance was strong.

Everyone commented on it; the mother grew taller and plumper,
And grinned ear to ear. The child tried to teach her Child

To make faces, to wear lipstick, to pluck her eyebrows,
Anything at all. Nothing came of it. Everyone said,

"She looks just like her mother." Finally, the child
Grew used to living with the sword and the moon hanging

Just over her head. She decided, "So what if it falls?
I've lived a long time, and worried more than a god."

She had another Child, this time a boy,
And everyone said he looked just like his father,

And though another cube was missing from the ice tray
The Mother began wrinkling, and stooping, and complaining

Of arthritis, and how she could hardly lift an arm over her head.
The child was relieved, and began to take pleasure

When people said her Child looked just like her mother,
But one day, she came home early with bags full of groceries,

And found her Child staring into the cubes,
Her face frozen in horror, and the child went to look,

And in each cube, there She was, and her Daughter
Backed away from her, was stuck to the wall like wallpaper,

Was glued there with fear.
Then the child put her head on her arms and cried

And agreed with her Daughter to cover the mirrors;
She didn't know how: it had happened again.