Tuesday, November 22, 2011

eek - it's Tuesday already! Tuesday poem

Mother Gothel's Lullaby

Every night the tears
when she thinks I can’t hear.
Some nights I sit outside her room
and half sing a song
half remembered.
It quiets her like it did the
brindle hound-pups.
There’s nothing else I can do
I’m not her mother.

Sleep squirmy bundles of milk pups
snout’s stilled and ears closed.
Dream of the fox cubs
curled in their den.
Dream of the ducklings
tucked under their wings.
Dream of the rabbit kits
blind in their burrows.
Grow while you sleep
sound-limbed, proud-chested
far sighted and keen.
Sleep little milk pups
for tomorrow you hunt with the pack.

Who sang that to me?
I smell leather and polish
feel stubble against my cheek.
My father? Salt stings my eyes.
I’m not her mother.
There’s nothing I can do. 

by Catherine Bateson, from Rapunzel, a libretto in progress.
Read other Tuesday Poems from the Tuesday Poem blog.

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