Tuesday, May 3, 2005

(What I get for eating broccoli late in the day...) Last night I dreamed my mother was a cabbage, Cruciferae In dreams she's shell-shocked. Gunshy, you might say. I keep taking her hand. We're house-hunting. Sometimes she sits with me on a bus. Or she rests with velvet on a bed of illness. I hold her smooth beautiful legs on my lap. I rub the soles of her feet. In a past life we were Minoans together when my mother was a slave, a bull-dancer, and I the wealthy patroness who loved her. From a seat at the arena I watched her fall on the horns. She was eighteen. I never forgave myself. Last night I dreamed my mother was a cabbage, Cruciferae, like a great green globe of the world I toted under one arm. I pared away the ruined places, which after all were just skin deep. I put a cool pale square of her on my tongue and chewed. She was sweet and good. 10:25:12 AM    comment []