Pause Painting
JS Harlow
When my mom was not yet full
With me my grandma had a painting
Of her made, so everyone she knew
Would know that she'd had a daughter
Of beauty. I never saw it. A psychic
Came to my grandma's house
On its big hill and saw that painting
In the foyer. And she said, "That woman
Right there that I see is pregnant with a
Little boy." And maybe she had known
Somehow, but I doubt it.
I think there was a power there cause, you see, because
The next thing she said was talking about me.
"He'll be tall," she said, and I am, and more--
"He'll be a man who sees through windows
With great big moon eyes and a hitch in
His step.
"He'll be a fool," she said--I am, "and he'll
Start in on those fixes on his walks
And never stop till he's fixed himself.
"He'll have beef jerky muscles in his withered arms
And tracks running up and down his thighs. He'll
Run up and down them night and day and listen, too."
My grandma said no thing to her. You don't entertain
A guest and then let her out. They had a shot of whiskey
Each with the other of them and my grandma was listening
The while. "He'll find a lady," the psychic said. "Crash right
In to her. Left. He'll nearly shake her teeth out
And he'll be tall and a damned sight more handsome than
Any man ought to be. And he'll smile and she'll be butter in his hands.
"There'll be a little girl," she said--and there was, "and all that time
He'll be running up and down those tracks and listening, listen.
And that little girl, I don't know what she'll be,
And I don't know the lady but you better watch out
For that little boy cause, because, he'll be
Just like you." My grandma let the psychic out
And put a mirror up in the foyer the very next day.
It stayed there till I was five years old
And in it I'd see black welshes out the window, baaing
On the hill, and, no matter how many times I tried,
I could never hear the damn things.
----------
Look forward to the next installment of Silver and Gold next Thursday!
No comments:
Post a Comment