From: steele@aem.umn.edu (Stephanie Steele)
Subject: Brother,Mother,Brother,Father (Part 2)
Summary: Brother,Mother,Brother,Father (Part 2)
Keywords: Brother,Mother,Brother,Father (Part 2)
Organization: University of Minnesota
Date: Tue, 17 Nov 1992 22:58:01 GMT



2.

Mom- i have tried sending you information that would help.

Mom- i love you. ilove you so much i don't think i can come visit again.

Mom- Here i am in Minnesota!  Here i am in the belly of August! i am
tunneling through a green and gold kaleidoscope. The green hurts my
eyes it is so perfect. My feet thump over sand, anthills, daddy-long-leg
spiders, this heaving tunnel of foliage. i squint as i push through
overgrown hackberry, vines, shimmering leafy orbs. The path widens.
The tunnel domes up into warm cathedral, green bath. i am swimming
through green air. The river is telling green secrets about me on the other
side. The river gossips green, mom, the river gossips green.

Mom- i wrote a short story about us and my instructor informed me that an
ending where one brother is incarcerated and the other kills himself is
like a Shakespearean tragedy- "too many dead bodies left on the stage."

Mom- you told me- this was years ago- you told me- this was in Virginia-
one gray, sloppy Virginia Christmas (i would fly from California and the sky
would fall in gray sheets, the Virginian landscape would sag under webs
of fog and rain. i would fly to the Admiral house, and that plantation would
defy the gravity of December) and you told me- this was after we drove
to Norfolk for lunch at some Chinese restaraunt- we ate Chinese food and
drank Lite beers and you were young here. You dated and rode in convertibles
and wore dark sunglasses and red, red lips and silk scarves and cigarette
pants and you even smoked cigarettes. The Martini Days (sterling shakers
and olives, olives the color of dad's flight suits) and you and Dad threw
a Beat Nik party once- and, yes, i remember watching it on the home movies-
Dad in a black
beret,
black turtleneck, a black goatee painted on his chin. some men dressed up
as giant Planter's peanuts and their arms were stretched up into oversized
top hats, which came down to their chests (some of them hairy) and their
torsos were bare, with faces painted on them, eyelashes above the nipples
and belly buttons as red, red lips exclaiming "Oh!" and the men danced
'belly dances' and made the faces move, while other goateed men read 
'poetry' and banged on the bongo drums. Your face would would pop in
front of the camera- your long, black hair pulled back in one sweeping
braid, lips red, red. Your smile was so big i could hear it through the
tick of silent film.) and you told me-
after
lunch and we're driving back to the Admiral house, in the rain, and
you were once young here- there's Clancy's, every Friday night after happy    
hour we'd meet Daphne and Arnie- that's where i met your father, i thought
he was such a geek, Mr. Hot Shot Fighter Pilot, you know they all really
think they're God's gift- and grandma's beauty shop around the corner, we
all wanted our hair Tippi Hedren blonde, your grandfather beat me, beat
me silly if i ever tried anything like that- and we pull into the driveway
and
something has happened. You turn the ignition off and something has
happened. You are crying. The rain is ticking against the roof of the car
(the Celica, the white Celica) rivulets of water slide down the windshield,
the windows. I told you to get a divorce if you weren't happy because i
was young, because i hated you just then for ruining the whole day, because
for a minute we were happy and mother and daughter and i stared out the
window. You sobbed into a soggy tissue and just before you pulled the keys
out of the ignition and grabbed your brown, leather purse with all the
zippers and pockets and checked your face in the rearview mirror you told
me to never let go of my dreams.


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			   Stephanie Steele
			steele@chip.aem.umn.edu
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems