In the dream when I boiled,
skinned and ate Schrödinger's kitten,
there was no uncertainty inside
the lidded aluminum kettle;
I knew when the kitten died,
a last look of reproach
as it was dropped into boiling water,
the once perky, pink-eared,
tiger-striped baby wantonly destroyed,
frozen in memory's event horizon,
black holes that were its eyes.
"This is my body you eat."
It was as if I wanted to know what it took
to make something innocent die.
For I have seen black holes
in the eyes of abused children,
and wondered what star was lost
by starvation, beating or incest,
when the future collapsed upon them
creating the naked singularity
of innocence destroyed,
children trapped by past evil
forever still about to happen.
Pleasure, self-esteem, love, trust, time
and the bright space of childhood
crushed by the black maw inside,
the membrane of memory itself wormholed
in order to survive. I dream of them
reaching but never touching,
spun away by the churning silence.
Light years ago, you were energy,
dynamic radiation, dark force that drew me
across uncharted space
irrevocably as a star gazer's charm;
and you caught me, an event on your dream horizon
where in darkness I was compelled
to fall around you forever,
having touched your naked singularity
when I held you in my arms.
Copyright © 2001 Sandra J. Lindow
Sandra J. Lindow, officially past her 50th birthday, takes being an apprentice crone seriously. She has published four books of poetry including The Heroic Housewife Papers (1990) and A Celebration of Bones (1996). She works as a reading specialist in a treatment center for emotionally disturbed adolescents.