April 15: Another Long Night, Judith MInty, Another Poem

I was up until after midnight, grading tests.  I was up and out of the house by 6 a.m.  I will be getting home tonight around 10 p.m.  Then I have a whole bunch of poems to get through for tomorrow night's workshop.  Translation:  it's going to be another really long night.

Of course, I have Judith Minty to keep me company this evening.  The poem below comes from the "Fall" section of Yellow Dog Journal.

Saint Marty has some caffeine to consume now.

24

Once, in anger, my mother said
no man would marry me if I kept
my mean disposition.
Now my own daughters scowl and turn
their eyes to men, and my husband
has a heart big enough to hold a month of tantrums.

Still, I come here without them
and turn into this crone, this old woman
who hobbles on her stick along the riverbank,
who mutters deep in her throat
and smells of bear,
who combs her fingers through her hair
and cackles when leaves float down in front of her.

It is almost time.  There is no one
who remembers the child, except perhaps
the animals who breathe softly around her.

More grading to do...