Door in the Mountain: New and Collected Poems, 1965-2003

Second Mother

Second Mother Black hair, and the white hill, and the one cedar tree, “like a soldier,” the ripe hot stench of your motorcycle, its squatting gleam . . . Then, by the river, Ha! Ha! I could have touched your bright white circles, your nipples’ little red mouths, redder than my mother’s. Black Hair, Black Hair! I was four, you were sixteen, seventeen, half-girl, half-mother, you held out safety like a sugar cube, but how could I get to suck on it? in this world . . . The Sea of Serenity The Sea of Serenity: my mother’s body: ashes: the appearance of land, and the appearance of water. Books by the fireplace: gold brocade and silver: but love, oh love. Outside the door. Earth said, Eat. Earth said, Shame. Mother, on my hands and knees, face flat in the leaves, I chomp after you like a horse. 208 door in the mountain ...