Planetarium Poem by Bruce Bond

Planetarium



As the mobile of planets wheeled over my crib,
their shadows darkened the yellow walls:

a ripening pear. My mother frowned
tenderly like a mirror, touched
her fingers to her nipple, placing there
the word milk, then took her hand away.

The syllable drifted to the floor of my body,
a shiny lure swiveling through the dark—
my first imagination of need. A toy piano
played lullabies on its metal teeth.

When my mother leaned down to kiss me,
she pressed her face on the pad of my silence;
then she withdrew, jostling the planets.
That night my parents slept lightly. The sky

lay wind-stripped and polished to its tar.
When I spoke, they imagined themselves
emerging in my first words. Like children
they lit up at the names they were given.

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
BEST POEMS
BEST POETS
READ THIS POEM IN OTHER LANGUAGES
Close
Error Success