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,
-coddle-swaddled
Still, in my mother's arms.
