The Moon Days
There are roses
And then there are roses
In the distance an edge of green
Long and wandering the branches
You will see a bird
Or maybe three
Time is a heavy circle
The circular head
Of the dandelion
Thought by many
To be a pesky little weed
Mighty little dandelion
Keeper of the secrets
And secret lives
Friend to lonely children
Symbol of the sun
Dandelion, my friend
Beware!
They are out to get you
They are out to get
All of us
Blow your seeds
Directly
To me
Blow your soul
Directly to me
I’ll save you
And then there are roses
In the distance an edge of green
Long and wandering the branches
You will see a bird
Or maybe three
Time is a heavy circle
The circular head
Of the dandelion
Thought by many
To be a pesky little weed
Mighty little dandelion
Keeper of the secrets
And secret lives
Friend to lonely children
Symbol of the sun
Dandelion, my friend
Beware!
They are out to get you
They are out to get
All of us
Blow your seeds
Directly
To me
Blow your soul
Directly to me
I’ll save you
Birth
When I was born I didn’t cry
Instead they pulled me out
A giant lifeless doll
And sat me on the glass table
When she was born
She looked like a clear bubble
Encasing a red lamb
I barely got to see her
When he was born
They pulled him out of me
The doctor came over hours later
My grizzle all over her smock
She said it all turned out ok
I couldn’t move anything
Under my eyelids
Birth is everything they said it would be
But the death doulas also make
Their proclamations into the afternoon
Yes you see narcissism or the self
Is the gift of the mother
You might say that this is disgusting
And you’d be right
But so is everything
So are you
So is life
So look deep into the mirror now
My beloved
Aren’t you the happy genius
Of your little household
Without art we’d just be
Swimming upstream with the tax collector
Look deep into that slick surface
So much had to die to put you there
It’s not wrong to respect yourself
That person that you’ll always be
Instead they pulled me out
A giant lifeless doll
And sat me on the glass table
When she was born
She looked like a clear bubble
Encasing a red lamb
I barely got to see her
When he was born
They pulled him out of me
The doctor came over hours later
My grizzle all over her smock
She said it all turned out ok
I couldn’t move anything
Under my eyelids
Birth is everything they said it would be
But the death doulas also make
Their proclamations into the afternoon
Yes you see narcissism or the self
Is the gift of the mother
You might say that this is disgusting
And you’d be right
But so is everything
So are you
So is life
So look deep into the mirror now
My beloved
Aren’t you the happy genius
Of your little household
Without art we’d just be
Swimming upstream with the tax collector
Look deep into that slick surface
So much had to die to put you there
It’s not wrong to respect yourself
That person that you’ll always be
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Dorothea Lasky is the author of eight books of poetry and prose, including The Shining and the forthcoming, MEMORY.
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