FROGS
OF FROGS AND CONVOLUTIONS NOT A PRINCE IN SIGHT
There was a birdbath in his yard My taciturn uncle’s It was
among the most magical totems of childhood Ditto my mother’s
hairbrush 200 strokes each night Rapunzel-like hair down to
there Uncoiled from bun Spun golden brown
Unlike Rapunzel no princely suitors No gentleman callers climbing
Rather locked away In a place of suburban decay: a plaza a school
+a pile of plump nouveau riche wives Sans the luminous hair
At the base of the birdbath lived a toad Tiny +bewarted I loved it
passionately And did not exactly kill it Just played with it to death
My own hands bewarted over time These days I am not as partial to
frogs Even my young cousin had a run in His with an amphibian herd
On a slick rural road
There were hundreds of them +it was pouring +the car was thumping
Over them +through them Frog-matter everywhere! Windshield + hair
Today I sit at a birdbath of sorts secret garden U of T Lawns emerald green
Squirrels shifty One eyes me hungrily as men on rooftops used to do There
are 2 Canada geese I feel unkindly towards them immediately +cast unholy
aspersions with a kicking motion The larger of the 2 squawks apocalyptically
He grabs the hem of H+M dress +nearly rips it off of me With this I
become murderous wrapping fingers around a throat so smooth +iridescent
I am reminded of the womb Where the sound of brushing entered psyche
Mother-goddess metronome lulled me into trance so what was coming wouldn’t
hurt as much Except it did
__
Postscript
I once worked with a 7 yr. old girl Her mother a deaf mute
Ran away when she was 3 +her most vivid memory a hair
brushing ritual before bed For 2 years much of therapy
consisted of silently brushing her hair And keeping her from
assaulting me She + I counter transferentially returning the
world’s lost mothers to daughters open arms + gnashing teeth
It would be a long long recovery
__
Heal the patient, heal the world C.G. Jung
Mother’s Day 🌸 2018
songanddancegirl 