For my mother
To look up and see his face,
drifting in the window
like a tethered balloon,
and looking through him
see her room,
freighted with silence,
like the weight of snow.
To have lived
here for twenty years
and not to know
even suspect
what itβs all for β
that sloping field
across the road,
the weathered stones
we hid behind,
watching her go.
To look up and see him there β
cartoon face,
hanging by a question mark,
a ragged hook β
and quickly turn away,
noting how
the apple tree has
split beneath
the weight of snow:
her death,
still moving in the world.
Tel Aviv 1992
Idiot Child
by 
Powis
|
Posted: Friday, February 6, 2004 Word Count: 111 Summary: Very personal and probably needs some explanation by way of context. This was a visit to the house where I used to live as a child. My mother died there and my adult self had the feeling that the 'me' that witnessed it all as a child was still there while I had moved on, reconciling myself to her death. Also 'sloping field' and 'weathered stones' refer to the graveyard across the road from the house and her funeral. The apple tree stands in the garden. |