I beat with my dragonwings against my earthmother asking why?
Why didn’t you teach me, show me the locked-away gardens,
Draw me the map I have cried for, hand me the burning key?
I wander the forking skyways diving for summerfat answers
Every fledgling more skilful than I, every toddler wiser,
Every kindergarten full of mockery at know-nothing me
Unpaged, half-hearing, the wind runs straight through me,
The worldflames knock me this way and that
The lightning makes me dance a wilding
And yet–and yet. I spear the questions one way
And the answerflowers bloom in the opposite place.
I frustrate the angryhours hot, cold, and they temper
I hammer the doors of tell me, tell me, tell me
And they melt into whispers of why then? why?
And they rustle back: Just look at yourself!
Which I can’t, which I can’t, which I can’t.
I beat with my puny hands against my great, solid mother
Asking why? And she says nothing at all, but builds me
Yet one more pair of soaring, unreachable dragonwings.
Marie Deer (she/her) is a poet, editor, translator, dancer, swimmer, and game night impresaria who has lived in Bloomington, Indiana, for 24 years. She is interested in themes of interpersonal drama, mothers, fathers, all kinds of children, mental and emotional struggles, body shapes, and all the things that result from those.
The Kismet Magazine 