Forever Street

I met my withered mother

- Last night in a fever dream,

Her overcoat black as topsoil,

Her hair a bluish gleam.

At first I didn't know her,

The years had changed her so:

Her spine was bent like a comma,

And every step was slow.

The concrete slabs of the sidewalk

Lay broken and askew,

The roots of the ancient maples

An unpaid wrecking crew,

And over the slabs lay a mantle

Of fallen palmate leaves-

The bodiless hands of autumn

With nothing up their sleeves.

I offered my arm to the woman,

But she turned to me with scorn:

"What is it now that brings you

To the street where you were born?

"The name of this street is Forever,

And you haven't lived here for years;

The bulb in the streetlamp flickers,

But everything's as it appears."

Her mouth clicked shut into silence

Like a fisherman's pocketknife,

Her face became my daughter's,

My daughter became my wife,

And they all sang "Happy Birthday"

The way Marilyn sang it for Jack,

And their overcoat fell open,

And I felt myself fall back.

Whoever she was now kissed me,

Her lips like ice on my own;

I woke from the nightmare sweating-

Burning, freezing, alone.