199

Mother
My hands trembled like aspen, at the gate
            Of that light. It was our first year. I was younger,
                        Corazon, than you are now. It was the last night.
The house was full of people then, and you
            Were dressed so elegantly, in the fire
                        Of your age, and I could not follow you as you
Went away from me down into the garden,
            Where the noise would die and the warmth
                        Of the house die in music. Our first year. Then.

I would wake you, corazon, if I could.
            Fire is the amnion of your rest. I must not
                        Wake you yet. I have made a lantern in your place,
You will not stir until it has burnt down.
            Something flies in the edge of the wood,
                        Dressed in fire. A dream of life, gone beyond reach.
Halleluja to the night! I sing this broken world
            Through my thoughts. I take these forms into my own,
                        As parts of me to deliver. Where is the ambulance
That would take me home?

            The cataract, the parabola, the pool.
                        One falls into the other : penitents into grace. I fell,
One night many years ago, into you.
            I have not seen you since so long. Above
                        Our heads the forms of past ages reappeared, as if
God had ordained a system of the heavens,
            And dredged the histories for lights. That hush
                        Fell where you held me. I felt you hold your breath.
Electricity in heaven, I thought, how the
            Future captures us! And you held my hand so
                        That the music would go on, and I felt magnificent.