A Little Child, Leading
Rent from DeepDyve- A Little Child, Leading
A Little Child, Leading
How curious the admonitions: beat your sonwith the rod and you will spare himfire from the nether world;if your son curses you-casts youto hell with his bitter phrases,wishes your knees crushed, your forearmsdangling stumps, imagines feedingyour bloody guts to wild dogs,slicing delicious strips from your liver-put him to death; if your sonturns stubbornly to his own desire-acts the drunkard,glutton, whoremonger-cast the first stone,aim toward his tender cheek, choose a rockglistening with quartz or mica,leave limestone for the soft-hearted; a boy leftto his whim shames his mother; a son's eyemocking his father shall be plucked out by ravens,devoured by eagles, and you shall gazeupon his empty sockets without blinking.
Prophecy arrived later than law: a little child leadingtame carnivores to grain. We envisionour own toddler cuddling against Azlan's mane,nuzzling Pooh, the child we most long to indulge,niece, granddaughter, the one we liftto our lap, stroking her hair, her tender skin, the onewhose ear nestles into our shoulder at twilight as we repeatstories of mama bear or the moon or the catin the cradle. Inspiration or fantasy,who can tell? I am no prophet,no interpreter of tongues or visions,merely intrigued with expressions [End Page 147]
I've learned without effort: a little child shall lead.In another era's obsessive paintings, the childsits safely among the beasts, but stares,stern, solemn, dismayed, as if warning usto beware the cobra's den, the adder's lair,those beasts who will neversurrender their own natures.
Let us live, prophecy should say,according to our natures, divine,enfleshed. Let black bears lumber across open fields,lions devour the flesh of gazelles,as our flesh soon too shall sustaingenerations of carnivorous beetles and grubs.I'm the skeptic in this life, cursed and cursing anyonewho urges my child to trustthe python's squeeze, the cobra's venom,the warm dens where they curl around themselves,camouflaged, drowsy, gorgeous. [End Page 148]
Lynn Domina is the author of a collection of poetry, Corporal Works, and two reference books. Her recent poetry appears in St. Ann’s Review, Green Mountain Review, Florida Review, Lake Effect, and many other periodicals. She lives in the western Catskill region of New York.
