I Tell the Window, Pain

I breathe into the wall and fog the glass,

There will be no snow!

Soon!

Not that I mind snow, no, no,

But I am a goddess of the earth, don’t you know!

(I tell the window pane)

A goddess owns nothing,

And stays everything!

The sky and all behind it–

 Earth and all upon it. 

I am a goddess of the Earth, I say!

But how long can one roam

(I ask the window pane)

And sway in storms of silence

Before she drives one icicle

Through her chest, to quit the frost

That chases her indoors?

NOT LONG!

Because when it snows too hard,

I cannot look up.

And I must bow, bow, bow

Low, low, low

And when it snows not enough,

And I cannot look up

Because of the mud, mud, mud.

 

Oh, how the ground yanks at my neck!

I fight floors for a living now!

I am a goddess of this earth and

Somewhat angry from rest, at home where

Something is waking up indoors but also

Outdoors,

Bursting the doors!

A desire to beat the snow.

(I pound the window pane)

I refuse to spend my life!

Watching my feet!

There is so much more to look at

Then the crystal dirt on my black, black boots!

            No

                                    No

NO!

I desire again the prickling in that air

Just above my ears, which nips:

 Lean back, look up… spin, strut, row!

Sprint, race, bellow!

Rest, stare… go!

(I kiss the window pane)

That!
That is how the sky would talk to me.

Since I was a little, turning girl:

Taught by my mother to lay in the grass

Until I could summon every blade

To lick my skin while I lay  still

With my eyes open as two large cups for the blue–

Two small wells for the heavens

But cupped hands, rather! Since they reached and

Overflowed at the same time!

 

And they were the meeting point,

Of a falling Above and a hungry Below,

And the little girl would lie as the mixture, as her mother told her to,

Asking her sky,  “What am I today?”

And it would toll resounding, deep into my core that I was—

No

No

No!

I WILL NOT HAVE SNOW ANY LONGER

(I am hushed by my window pane).

 

 

 

 

 

 

Listen!

Listen to the flowers, and how they hum.

They are low, like you, but not for long.

They will squint at the fog, like you do now

But soon they will sing,

And blossom,

And harmonize along that spot above your ears,

Join our chorus to springtime, sweet sister!

Lose your face to the heavens,

We are together again,

After so much slumber,

And diamond dirt. 

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