Suzette Haden Elgin's Blog, page 16

Poem; "Keeping Up With The Times"...

Keeping Up With The Times

She could do magic
as well as anyone;
she was highly skilled.

She could make water
wash the dinner dishes,
with just a quick thought.

She could make clutter
sort itself out and go
to its proper place.

She could make the dust
gather itself in piles
and jump in the trash.

She could make the sheets
put themselves on the bed,
and the bedspread too.

She could make the mop
polish the kitchen floor
to a gleaming shine.

But all of this seemed
so quaint. So old-fashioned.
She prided herself

on bei...

Poem; "The Stalker Silkie," part three (final)...

The Stalker Silkie, continued

The Silkie went home,
plunging into the sea,
not in a good mood.

Once upon a time
you flung a bag of gold
on the maiden's knee

and took her to bed
without conversation,
without so much fuss.

It was convenient,
and she didn't talk back.
Once upon a time.

Perhaps the problem
was that he hadn't had
any bag of gold.

Hard times for Silkies;
bags of gold hard to find
for flinging on knees.

It was a dog's life
on the bed of the sea
and it wasn't fair.

He'd go to the King,
the Silkie decided,
a...

Poem; "The Stalker Silkie," part two...

The Stalker Silkie, continued

Cassie said to him,
over their dinner out,
"This has got to stop.

This, man, is not cool.
This is not romantic.
This is out of line."

And the Silkie shrugged.
Said, "I don't get out much."
"Well," she said, "you're wet!

"Who'd want you around?
Dripping and leaking and
messing up the place!"

"Where I live," he said,
"Things are already wet.
So nobody minds."

"Then stay there," she said.
"We could be friends," he said.
"Why me?" Cassie asked.

"Out of all the ones
you could have picked...

Poem; "The Stalker Silkie," part one...

The Stalker Silkie

"Mercy!" said Cassie.
"There's seaweed on the floor
again this morning!"

Tangles of wet kelp
messing up the carpets
and the hardwood floors.

"How does he get in?"
That's the basic question.
It's clear that locks mean

nothing to Silkies.
[Or at least to this one,
who fancies Cassie.:]

Suppose this goes on;
all this salty wetness;
the house will be ruined.

Cassie sits and thinks
about what she could do
to make it all stop.

The Silkie writes notes
slimy notes of damp love
on all the mirrors.

The Sil...

Personal note; thank you...

I am so grateful for all your comments, and for all your kind words, and for the comfort you've given me. This year has so ravaged me physically that I really thought a warning was needed; I didn't want to startle people. When I look in the mirror now, the person I see looking back doesn't look like me even to me, and if you haven't seen me for many months I'm afraid the contrast will be even greater.

I treasure your comments, and I thank you for them.

Poem; "Personal Note" ...

Personal Note

A personal note
comes from an old woman
older than her years

who wants to be sure
her friends will not be shocked
when they first see her.

She wants them to know:
She weighs ninety-five pounds.
Has cut off her hair.

Has a grief-carved face --
a map of deep ravines,
all the way to Hell

and all the way back.
The route is there to see,
like Route 66.

It's a grim landscape,
and she'd spare you the sight
if she just knew how.

Poem; "No Contact"

No Contact

When we saw the ship
flying over Tulsa
we knew what it was,

because our ships can't
wink in and out of sight,
can't hover in place,

can't spin round like that.
What happened next was not
what we expected.

All the sciences
and all the scientists
started up a war

over which science
was entitled to go
greet the Aliens.

A day and a night
went by without greeting,
while the pee-aytch-deez

argued the issue
and could not resolve it.
What happened next came

as a great surprise:
The ETs closed their doors
and took...