Tiger Butter

Is it only when you’re little

you know tigers live in your closet—

one with your shoes on his two ears,

another with your umbrella tied to his tail;

the rest wearing your red coat

and blue trousers with the red buttons?

Is it only when you’re little

the dustballs have mountainous shadows

in the crack of light under the door?

Or is it also NOW you fear that tigers will eat you—

when you wake in the middle of the night

and don’t know where you are,

nor remember how far you’ve come.

Your nose hurts like a plowed field,

your fingers stiff—

Then somehow, you remember what you’ve accomplished.

The sewing is finished—

The red buttons threaded to the blue pants

and the little coat with its sleeves.

And you know you have given them to the tigers

(so they won’t eat you).

But they chased themselves around a tree

and melted into butter.

NOW you can pick up your coat and trousers,

your shoes and umbrella.

Soon, even, you can start your car and go—

The promise of dawn already

on the face

of the clock-radio.

Copyright Credit: “Tiger Butter” from On Age in a Dreamy by Diane Glancy (Minneapolis: Milkweed Editions, 1986). Copyright © Diane Glancy. Reprinted with permission from Milkweed Editions. www.milkweed.org.

Source: One Age in a Dream (Milkweed Editions, 1986)