DAUGHTERS
What words for a daughter
in a time of diffidence?
My loins can give you nothing
now. My mother is loitering
in your crazy walk"your bumptious sorrows,
your chameleon and careering beauty.
Ask me if I fear my blood spilled
in childbirth or at the moon's
twisting: no one deserves your arms
or your blood or your legs clasp.
Death and life-ask me-
roost in the nests of your flesh.
My gift is that I want
nOlhing from you for me:
very well then, for you,
make a pet of time, own it,
blot
up all loss: make whal-is
dry and clear when it is near
you: avoid fear, be winged;
embrace fear, crawl: my pride
rots as bridges do where rivers
weave mud meadows after floods.
Abstain from grief or grieve
when storks rise from reeds
as you wish. Let absurdity
shape your eyes, your face.
I love you. Live.
Harold Brodkey
