Abundantly meadowed, my childhood farm

Marked by cowslips, apple trees, -

Yellow hay, honey bees.

Hand painted by Wyeth, almost. 

A time-kissed bathtub lay face down.

Claw feet saluted the sky-blue,

Nettle speckled was she (the queen of all bathtubs) -

 Cheered on by a bindweed gentry

The wear and tear, rosy-brown

The wear and tear, a home?

Delicate rot hollowed out a face-hole,

 I, a child of seven, squashed rosy cheeks into jagged edges 

- a fat pillow in a new linen case.

Sweet Purgatory portal! Swallowed me whole

Fixed violet eyes on all I could behold

Beneath her bronze belly and bounding breast

A lamb 

-pure as fallen snow,

Golden warmth flows from which my chest

This lamb that lay below!


The tub stretched out its rust-mottled hands

It beckoned, it called

 the deeper I went 

And met that sweet sheep’s gaze 

I am safe. I am safe

I awoke in the humble roaring sun

Lost was the lamb and the tub,

I awoke with such alarm yet I remained,


Still, in my mother's arms.

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