~question often asked at a High School class reunionsI used to be the frogyou dissected in freshman biology. Remember?You wired my nerves to a batteryso you could watch me twitch.I was the lunch lady,the largest one, who alwaysgave you extra topping on your jello squarebecause you were so thin. I wasthe grumpy custodian who helped youopen your locker the morningyour dog died and you couldn’t seethrough your tears. Once Iwas the chubby cheerleader dummyin the display case in the hall,wearing a faded letter sweater and a little
I was on the crest of a hill, eye-level with the tops of hemlocks,raised my arms in the perfect dihedral,rounded my shoulders exactly right,curved my hands into the primaries of a rough-legged hawk.I could have done it, that afternoon,with the sun scattering the light into improbable blue.I felt a vibration, a trembling up my arms.I saw my fingers pinnate,felt the feathers growing, prickling through my skin.Perhaps I could have risen above the trees,disappeared into that stunning sky–and yet, some solid thing,some reservation of gravity,kept me on the ground.Small children know:with homemade wings in place they leap
I have a cheerful one,a placid one, unremarkable,with small pink lips but Kaliof the bloody tongue,Kali festooned with screaming skullstrembles here, behind this matron’s mask.Any moment her blueblack armsmight emerge from my polyester shirtand throttle that man sipping his tea. Shemay jump onto the counterand fling saucers and cups, split throughmy skin, bite heads and crunch down bones,break the door, smash the steps,dance her pounding dancedown the crackling road. Meantime,I drink coffee
Consulting summer's clock,But half the hours remain.I ascertain it with a shock --I shall not look again.The second half of joyIs shorter than the first.The truth I do not dare to knowI muffle with a jest.
Oh Sumptuous momentSlower goThat I may gloat on thee --'Twill never be the same to starveNow I abundance see --Which was to famish, then or now --The difference of DayAsk him unto the Gallows led --With morning in the sky --
Behold, as goblins dark of mienAnd portly tyrants dyed with crimeChange, in the transformation scene,At Christmas, in the pantomime,Instanter, at the prompter's cough,The fairy bonnets them, and theyThrow their abhorred carbuncles offAnd blossom like the flowers in May.— So mankind, to angelic eyes,So, through the scenes of life below,In life's ironical disguise,A travesty of man, ye go:But fear not: ere the curtain fall,Death in the transformation sceneSteps forward from her pedestal,Apparent, as the fairy Queen;