Negligence

my father plays in a field.

he sees a horse, meek and glowing.

he touches the animal,

but when you touch the animal,

you will be fixed to her,

she will pull you

to the bottom of a river.

my father lives in the river.

he lives on forgetting.

if you forget, you can return

to boyhood, to the land of mother.

my father stays a boy to be

tender to his mother.

he is small enough

to bathe in her teacup.

I kneel by the river luring him:

father, let’s steal plums

from our neighbor’s garden,

let’s shake his trees!

let’s eat bread soup

with cinnamon and raisins!

he only wants to eat

his mother’s food,

to sleep in the gondola of her smile.

hunger inhabits a child

like a spoiled pond, and still

those waters reflect the face of Mother.

where is the mother, where

is the mother—

back in the field, braiding her mane.