Monday, January 15, 2007

Thin Ice ~~ anna hood ~~

The Rideau Canal has opened
Do you know it?
Ottawa, Canada?
Doesn't matter
really. We skated there
when we were children
on Baccarat crystal
ice etched and scored
with secrets. Mummie,
we always called her that,
bare legs, great legs showing
them off, skating
a stream of black hair
twisting and whipping
young men following
like, well you know like what.

I won't tell you
her faults. I never told then
I won't now, the stamping,
the slamming the slapping
and some others
faults unmentionable
maybe but then
we won't speak of that.

But she could fly, my mum
down the Rideau Canal
twin blades slicing
secret patterns across the ice
her own fire blazing
red coat red
lips red hot heat
and us
in her shadow
her awkward brood
swanlings all
waiting to be beautiful.

I closed my eyes for a moment
and we're past it
past our prime
past being beautiful
(we never quite managed)
and she was gone
like this winter afternoon
like the deep mauve sky
hanging heavy
pregnant with unshed snow
just out of reach.

None of us skate.



Blogger Roberta said...

This is vivid and beautiful.

It's hard to imagine our mothers with a passion. They are our mothers! We forget they were women first.

4:53 PM  
Blogger Susan Abraham said...

So beautiful.
Big kiss.

9:23 PM  
Blogger Saaleha said...

See, now I am going to have to stop visiting you, because everytime I do, I am struck by how worthy these are of a book, or books, or international fame, and yet here we sit, here they stay to taunt us with their absolute beauty.

10:45 PM  
Blogger Dafath said...

Nothing lasts.
There is the graveyard where everything I am talking about is,

I stood there once, on the green grass, scattering flowers.

Mary Oliver

4:42 AM  
Blogger anna said...

Roberta, yes even when we are grown it is difficult to think of our mothers as anything but mothers.
The mum in this piece was written for Tosca. Do you remember my Tosca? I think about her sometimes and it breaks my heart that I've neglected her for all these years.

Susan big Kiss back atcha!!

Saaleha, what a beautiful comment.
thank you so much - you've made my day

Al Bear, i must get my Mary Oliver out and read, as you know she used to be such a huge favourite of mine. I've neglected her.

again Thanks everybody. I so appreciate it!!

6:56 AM  
Blogger Bernita said...

As always, much is under the ice.

8:14 AM  
Blogger Roberta said...

Of course I remember Tosca. Who could forget.

Perhaps some companion pieces? To display here?

4:11 PM  
Blogger Susan Abraham said...

Dearest Anna,

Caught it. Caught the kiss. :-)

8:03 PM  
Blogger Atyllah said...

on Baccarat crystal
ice etched and scored
with secrets

Beautiful, poignant and, as always, alive with imagery. I stand in awe, Windsong ;-)

1:08 AM  
Blogger anna said...

Bernita, hopefully there is always something under the ice.

this is a good idea Roberta! i probably should think of it

mwahhhhhh Suze

thanks Chicken Godess! is there such a thing? I'm sure there is


10:05 AM  
Blogger Atyllah said...

If there wasn't a chicken goddess before, there is one now - and I'll be it! ;-)

You like that new hippy name of yours, don't you ;-)

10:20 AM  
Blogger anna said...

yes i quite like my new hippie name
i think i would like to be a goddess too

2:24 PM  
Blogger apprentice said...

I like the last line very much indeed.

I like too that you don't sentimentalise the mother.

11:37 AM  
Blogger anna said...

thanks anna very much. You always make my day :)

5:27 PM  
Blogger jason evans said...

I closed my eyes for a moment
and we're past it
past our prime
past being beautiful
(we never quite managed)

I feel the weight of the admission.

1:09 PM  

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