I am tired of having hands
she said
I want wings—
But what will you do without your hands
to be human?
I am tired of human
she said
I want to live on the sun—
Pointing to herself:
Not here.
There is not enough
warmth in this place.
Blue sky, blue ice
the blue rotunda
lifted over
the flat street—
and then, after a silence:
I want
my heart back
I want to feel everything again—
That’s what
the sun meant: it meant
scorched—
It is not finally
interesting to remember.
The damage
is not interesting.
No one who knew me then
is still alive.
My mother
was a beautiful woman—
they all said so.
I have to imagine
everything
she said
I have to act
as though there is actually
a map to that place:
when you were a child—
And then:
I’m here
because it wasn’t true; I
distorted it—
I want she said
a theory that explains
everything
in the mother’s eye
the invisible
splinter of foil
the blue ice
locked in the iris—
Then:
I want it
to be my fault
she said
so I can fix it—
Blue sky, blue ice,
street like a frozen river
you’re talking
about my life
she said
except
she said
you have to fix it
in the right order
not touching the father
until you solve the mother
a black space
showing
where the word ends
like a crossword saying
you should take a breath now
the black space meaning
when you were a child—
And then:
the ice
was there for your own protection
to teach you
not to feel—
the truth
she said
I thought it would be like
a target, you would see
the center—
Cold light filling the room.
I know where we are
she said
that’s the window
when I was a child
That’s my first home, she said
that square box—
go ahead and laugh.
Like the inside of my head:
you can see out
but you can’t go out—
Just think
the sun was there, in that bare place
the winter sun
not close enough to reach
the children’s hearts
the light saying
you can see out
but you can’t go out
Here, it says,
here is where everything belongs
– Louise Glück
heavenfaced 