quick post

"Imagine a court of one: the queen a young mother,
Unhappy, alone all day with her firstborn child
And her new baby in a squalid apartment

Of too few rooms, a different race from her neighbors.
She tells the child she's going to kill herself.
She broods, she rages. Hoping to distract her,

The child cuts capers, he sings, he does imitations
Of different people in the building, he jokes,
He feels if he keeps her alive until the father

Gets home from work, they'll be okay till morning.
It's laughter versus the bedroom and the pills.
What is he in his efforts but a courtier?

Impossible to tell his whole delusion. "

-An excerpt from Impossible To Tell, by Robert Pinsky.



I feel, that in all I do and say and act out and believe, that I am the child, my mother the world. That's all for now, I'm off to work on an essay on the Power of Quotation.