Palnide XXIV
Palinode XXIV
The rat
that leapt off
my back
to enter heaven
first
is still a rat.
I am an ox,
stoic and traditional,
keeping
to the rich furrows
cut by
abiding love.
It’s true:
when I was ten
I wished
I were a monkey,
overturning heaven
with my
antics, changing
into a fish,
a freckled bustard,
a roadside
shrine.
But mother died
and went ahead
of me
and all wishes for change
left too.
If I should turn
into
a rooster or a pig,
how would
she recognize her boy
when she
passed by the rocky
fields?
Or, now,
these regions of fire?
The rat
that leapt off
my back
to enter heaven
first
is still a rat.
I am an ox,
stoic and traditional,
keeping
to the rich furrows
cut by
abiding love.
It’s true:
when I was ten
I wished
I were a monkey,
overturning heaven
with my
antics, changing
into a fish,
a freckled bustard,
a roadside
shrine.
But mother died
and went ahead
of me
and all wishes for change
left too.
If I should turn
into
a rooster or a pig,
how would
she recognize her boy
when she
passed by the rocky
fields?
Or, now,
these regions of fire?
Image credit: https://www.epicentrofestival.com/
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