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Ivas Pantoum

Written by: Marilyn Hacker | Biography
 | Quotes (3) |
 We pace each other for a long time.
I packed my anger with the beef jerky.
You are the baby on the mountain.
I am in a cold stream where I led you.
I packed my anger with the beef jerky.
You are the woman sticking her tongue out in a cold stream where I led you.
You are the woman with spring water palms.
You are the woman sticking her tongue out.
I am the woman who matches sounds.
You are the woman with spring water palms.
I am the woman who copies.
You are the woman who matches sounds.
You are the woman who makes up words.
You are the woman who copies her cupped palm with her fist in clay.
I am the woman who makes up words.
You are the woman who shapes a drinking bowl with her fist in clay.
I am the woman with rocks in her pockets.
I am the woman who shapes.
I was a baby who knew names.
You are the child with rocks in her pockets.
You are the girl in a plaid dress.
You are the woman who knows names.
You are the baby who could fly.
You are the girl in a plaid dress upside-down on the monkey bars.
You are the baby who could fly over the moon from a swinging perch upside-down on the monkey bars.
You are the baby who eats meat.
Over the moon from a swinging perch the feathery goblin calls her sister.
You are the baby who eats meat the bitch wolf hunts and chews for you.
The feathery goblin calls her sister: "You are braver than your mother.
The bitch wolf hunts and chews for you.
What are you whining about now?" You are braver than your mother and I am not a timid woman: what are you whining about now? My palms itch with slick anger, and I'm not a timid woman.
You are the woman I can't mention; my palms itch with slick anger.
You are the heiress of scraped knees.
You are the woman I can't mention to a woman I want to love.
You are the heiress of scaped knees: scrub them in mountain water.
To a woman, I want to love women you could turn into, scrub them in mountain water, stroke their astonishing faces.
Women you could turn into the scare mask of Bad Mother stroke their astonishing faces in the silver-scratched sink mirror.
The scare mask of Bad Mother crumbles to chunked, pinched clay, sinks in the silver-scratched mirror.
You are the Little Robber Girl, who crumbles the clay chunks, pinches her friend, givers her a sharp knife.
You are the Little Robber Girl, who was any witch's youngest daughter.
Our friend gives you a sharp knife, shows how the useful blades open.
Was any witch's youngest daughter golden and bold as you? You run and show how the useful blades open.
You are the baby on the mountain.
I am golden and bold as you.
You run and we pace each other for a long time.



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