The Life and Times of Alice Maude Read online

  six field mice plus one

  half blind in the straw darkness

  let me stroke their velvet ears

  squealing with delight

  I ran to show Alice Maude

  this trick of trust

  vermin

  she crushed even the tiniest underfoot

  that night I prayed God

  would not remember me in Heaven

  DANDELION WINE LAMENT

  whipsaw eels back and forth

  slithering music over you

  and the dandelion yellow

  blossoms picked lovingly

  out of rain-bright fields

  now drive boot heels

  pistons hammering dents

  a quarter-inch deep

  in the pine strip floor

  no quiet innocents

  these weeds shake whitewash

  off the cellar wall

  THE BEAR'S TOOTH

  the bear's tooth

  you hung around your neck

  came from the head of a more noble beast

  boiled dead over a campfire

  extracted

  from its softened jaws

  no threat

  its hide wrapped your floors

  its flesh fed twin cubs then yours

  you wear these talismans

  hoping for the same sort of courage

  when the time comes

  ONE HUNDRED STROKES

  bent over Maudie's hair

  softly reaches the floor

  as she brushes

  stroke after stroke comes

  Jack's voice sweet and low

  from the other side of the door

  Irish eyes he sings for hers

  amongst the butts and empty jars of morning

  even without the rose-orange glow

  creeping up and over the early valley

  Maude in darkness waits

  another hundred strokes

  ALL WHITE LACE

  only I dream of your dark face

  and certain sadness

  all white lace and satin

  bouquet trailing through

  our first summer and all the next

  a year of whirlwinds

  but by the second year

  beseeching you I dug and dug

  and finally

  planted corn and potatoes

  onion soup saw us through

  the seven years of lean

  until the year when finally I went

  but not where you wanted me

  where now I clutch cold babies

  mine and yours

  and poke at ashes in an empty fire

  alone and ever after

  away past the black hills

  in freezing hours I sit

  all white lace and satin

  DOGS

  baying from the hill

  always meant another lamb

  for slaughter

  this time the favourite ewe devoured

  and the three inside her

  even the coyotes slunk away in shame

  dogs left bits of wool

  and unborn bone

  on spring snow

  in the valley Maudie

  smells their trail

  stealth and stale blood

  one lamb left and this one

  she stakes beside the stable door

  bares its silky throat

  under the icy gaze of moon

  in darkness waits for shadows

  slowly cocks the hammer of her gun

  AGONIES OF THE HEART

  never did we go down together

  to sodden sun-soaked fields

  or stand between the door jambs

  as the eastern sun made cobwebs

  only did we hide ourselves

  inside the stiff grey house

  where up the tall chimney pipes

  I screamed and screamed your dusty name

  out of the agonies of my heart

  and cried all my love

  down panes of glass

  neither could I sleep

  as the sky flew by

  and the fire leaped out of the marshlands

  for I knew all of our loves are like dying

  crystal clear your face seemed once

  YOU

  will find me one morning waking

  will open wide your eyes

  will see my naked unchaste soul

  will see the cleft between us two

  before I hide it from your gaze

  will think my hopeless smile is born of age

  will turn again to sleep

  THE WEIGHT

  was nearly winter when

  you moved in

  lock stock and babies

  but no water

  nearest neighbour chained up his well

  to stop you getting any

  spat at your feet said go

  back to the city

  back to your husband

  back where you belong

  your answer became legend in these parts

  someone lent a shovel

  you dug and dug through autumn earth

  hard and cold as a grave

  forty feet without a sign

  but at forty-one the water flowed

  and flowed

  no made no signs of jubilance

  how easily you carried

  the weight of stones on your back

  MEN YOU TOOK IN

  they still speak

  of your particular skill with sheets

  when times got tough

  up and down your hallways

  where they slept

  they remember

  fresh ones every week

  that your hands washed

  in water carried up the hill

  boiled over your wood fire

  scrubbed and wrung till nearly dry

  how you scented them with summer

  FAMILY TIES

  yesterday I sold everything

  to pay

  the rent the gas the grocer's bills

  or so I thought

  today I even cut my hair and sold it

  tomorrow I will pay

  with something else

  WE ROOT HUNTERS

  paring pruning packing

  scavenging in autumn earth

  hoe and fork

  digging deeper

  for gnarled root finger

  resisting harvest

  scraping steaming stacking

  the last jar of summer

  preserved tight behind root cellar doors

  as November's black brows

  bear down

  chopping cooking canning

  endless days now ended and silent

  until again begins the vigil

  of the root hunters

  waiting watching

  until they can return

  scraping scratching

  to the reluctant soil

  THE DONNICK

  the scent of gardenias or other florals

  were never smelt in our bathroom

  Alice Maude had no bright

  blue plush or shining chrome

  only an up and down

  wooden seat covered the drop

  straight down

  nor anything to while away the time

  just one concession

  to the donnick squatters

  a picture window

  eight by ten

  looking over her valley

  we sat in contemplation

  of the mysteries

  of many

  misty

  marshy

  mornings

  HURRICANE HAZEL

  Alice Maude puts on a grim face

  and three careful apples

  in her black hand bag

  come Hell or high water

  down to Toronto on the Grey Coach

  fetching back her Jack

  18 hours to get through

  50
miles of wind and wet

  only her and the driver

  and a woman smelling or orange blossoms

  cut each snow apple

  into deliberate quarters

  unwrapped three squares of chocolate

  passed them

  into the eye of the storm

  TORONTO BUS STATION

  in the swing of grime

  on double doors

  on the rows and rows of leatherette

  under the menus

  sticky with forgetting

  I look even knowing

  there's nothing

  even the tightness around her eyes

  is gone

  SNAKESKIN

  your hands paper dry

  my body shed so long ago

  are they still

  without me

  do they feel the same

  cool on some other skin

  are you still blind

  do you still see

  with your tongue?

  THE BOX

  inside your letters of love

  moulder for her eternal

  wrapped in tin

  impenetrable

  like her heart you said

  as you broke open the lock

  everything yields

  to your knife

  eventually

  THE CISTERN

  I could show you pictures

  but you would only see

  that slim boy

  sandy hair

  and short pants

  not the one who left you

  penniless with only old newspapers

  stuffed in cracks and holes

  to stop the snow drifting in

  heaping up on you

  while you slept

  left you to scavenge in the garbage

  for firewood and scurrying noises

  and whatever else

  not the prodigal son who

  put out his cigarette

  in your outstretched hand

  pushed you down

  the gaping cistern hole

  held your head

  thrashing under the dark water

  who left you

  for dead this time

  I could show you pictures

  you were my mother too

  THE FIFTH LINE

  your dust comes down

  the fifth line ridge

  hangs rose in the sunset

  that turns the green corn gray

  the cool stucco of evening

  firm against my back

  bent all day over the burning

  that turns the green corn gray

  no lights no words

  but sounds

  like wheels on gravel

  like bottles carried down the drive

  the screen door snapping shut

  biting on silence

  snatching at the dusk

  that turns the green corn gray

  THE VEAL CALF

  how hard Alice Maude had saved

  to see this calf sired

  a bargain for the best

  bull seed in the county

  one head too many

  too heavy for four feet

  good for one thing only

  when it was finally born

  MEDICINE MAUDE

  cowboys they were playing

  the sister captured

  her arms outstretched

  John aimed the shotgun

  never thinking it was loaded

  blew a hole

  next to Brigid's head

  so big

  I could see right through her arm

  Brigid spilled

  her bright blood that day

  on my Alice Maude's lace tablecloth

  John outside white as death

  retched into the lush dark purple

  of the prize peonies

  Alice Maude inside

  laid on her hands

  spoke softly around the shatters

  packed the hole with cotton

  bound it up

  in her best white linen

  only then called the doctor

  it was weeks before he said

  Brigid would keep her arm

  no mystery to Alice Maude

  LAVENDER OF LILAC

  your colour falls

  each spring on these lands

  with you long gone

  can't catch the blossoms

  in your apron

  or the whispers of the pine grove

  the breath of spring

  the boom of bullfrogs

  untrappable

  like the morning mist

  under Suicide Hill

  or the red dawns you always feared

  each year I pick a blossom

  to forget you

  but not your colour

  lavender of lilac

  CONSIDERING THESE TIMES, BETTY

  considering these times, Betty

  tell yourself

  there's nothing to be done

  dream all you want but

  that won't put

  your support on the table

  reading writing and arithmetic

  you already know too well

  it's time you earned your keep

  and keep you did

  at it from dawn till dusk

  like her

  until your fine freckled arm

  withered like a crone's

  you only sweet sixteen

  considering these times, Betty

  TALL ELMS

  tall elms along my lanes of youth

  shadowed me like strangers

  I later knew

  their disease became mine

  but when it fell it was as giants

  I only withered in years

  SISTERS: HELEN

  people thought they were twins

  but Alice Maude said Helen

  was the beauty

  sweet in her dark red hair

  a grey spot

  already at each temple

  lived near here

  in a house so old and drafty

  they never could keep the lamps lit

  by the time she had her sixth

  there was

  not even a sheet to cover her

  that Christmas they cooked

  a can of peas over a candle

  and ate in the dark

  Alice Maude knocked and knocked

  on the door

  but they never answered

  WAITING

  beneath these sheets of light and snow

  we wait together

  through the winter of your coming

  a full moon rising from my belly

  blowing hard towards the summer

  a strong wind across the drifts

  late on a day of green

  in the season of roses

  you will knock at this house

  in swaddling clothes

  stained with the rust of a long journey

  sure of your destination

  RED HAIR AND FRECKLES

  so big I could hardly climb the thresher

  Marge heaved me up from behind

  as you pushed from inside

  just before noontime

  you exploded out of the flashing blades

  on the horses' last turn

  I fell and like a dog

  lay gasping at the earth and sky

  onto the sweetness

  of the fresh cut field

  Marge held me through the blackness

  until the wagon came

  and you swam

  out of my river of blood

  even your hair was

  the colour of bloody straw

  your face and hands

  splattered with it forever

  SONATA FOR TWO

  I held I my arms

  this gray morning

  my child listening

  as a robin sang

  through first light
>
  one of Beethoven's sonatas

  BABY'S BREATH

  just the sight of baby's breath

  in the fields makes you weep

  for your children's lengthening footsteps

  for their little lips mouthing in sleep

  dreaming the taste of your breasts

  filled with the smell of innocence

  ALICE MAUDE'S BETTY

  spring stink of dog

  sweetening her lungs

  Alice Maude's Betty lay down

  in the bones and scraps

  of last year

  unwound

  her bright hair

  in the April snow

  so it spread

  like gossamer

  wings down her back

  at the edge

  of a moth-eaten hill

  the sand sparrows saw

  Alice Maude's Betty

  lean out

  towards the steaming valley

  waiting

  gnawed by the lonely thunder

  of the sky

  SOUNDS OF FLESH AND SPIRIT

  fearful I waited

  through all those years you lived

  and lived with joy

  yet knowing

  why gypsies closed your outstretched palm

  they read the fortune in your face

  and you recognized

  their prophecy of silence

  wakeful I listened in the rattle of your breath

  until I heard the sounds

  flesh and spirit

  slipping off your grateful bones

  the wolves grieved

  loud for you that night

  no moon to lead them

  up Suicide Hill and through

  such rain as never thrashed

  the roofs and field before

  softening the spring ground for you

  later I stood between birds and dripping pines

  held flowers to the waiting sky