Lisa Lewis
The Creation Story
My child is a thick brown stump, lost on the way home from grandmother's house.
My child is a handful of curling leaves tucked under a handful of snow.
My child is a flash of light barely glimpsed at the corner of the eye.
My child means trouble, something wrong inside, my child is a clue to send me
Searching, storm cloud, loosened hair, boxes stuffed with paper.
Where is my child?
Look under the elm struck by lightning, fallen across both sides of the brook.
Where is my child?
Look into the bubbling drain after the rain has cleaned the streets.
Where is my child?
Step into the fairy ring and listen, one appeared last night as another vanished.
What does she look like?
She's not a she.
What does he look like?
He's not a he.
My child is an animal with lungs that breathe.
My child is a minnow with gills that shiver.
My child is the sky frozen in white cloud.
My child is the west wind, spring coming on before I die.
My child has large flat feet making no sound on the rough pavement.
My child has large warm hands proving the absence of blood in her body.
What does she look like?
She's not a she.
My child is the creak of machinery, get out the oil can, something's wrong.
My child cried in my ear last night, feel the pillow, it's damp to the touch.
My child doesn't like me, she told me her secrets, I understand.
My child is a man, I watched him grow, he was born a splinter, it hurt coming out.
My child never changes, he's like the weather, daily the same questions.
What is his name?
He's not a he.
What did you name her?
I can't remember.
It's time for you to rest.
I'll never rest, my child is making too much noise.
Let's get you into bed.
Who's in my bed, my child wants to lie there, let him have it first, I know he's tired.
My child is a pickup truck, somebody tossed a dead squirrel in the back.
My child is a snowy roof, the sun never melts her.
My child is a book with pictures of the moon, she wouldn't watch with her naked eyes.
My child is of my body, my body is a tree, somebody chopped me to count the rings.
My child is of my heart, my heart is a pond, somebody took an eyedropperful, fish
Flashed their shadow tails.
My child is of my skin, it's too thin, it's his fault,
He won't look with his naked eyes.
My child is a street, I'm driving away, my child's in the back seat, I forgot his name.
My child can't find me, I'm in too many places, my child is a stump, my child is water,
My child is brown, he's on his knees, my child is laughing, my child is the sky,
My child is in trouble, it serves her right, my child took too much of my body one day,
Somebody said when she was born she had her hands full of her mother's body,
They said not to worry, it would all grow back, but it never did; she made certain.
look and tell me if it all grew back. Can you lift up the sheet and look for my body?
Did it all grow back? Find my child and take it from him. He has no right to so much
Of my body.
What's your child's name?
Her name is Priscilla.
What's your child's name?
It's a pretty name.
What's your child's name?
I can't remember.
I remember this. My child grew fast. I told my child not to grow so fast, but she
Wouldn't listen, she kept getting taller, she had big hands before she was born;
That's why she hurt me coming out, that's how she managed to steal my body.
Do you love your child?
My child is a stump.
We love our children.
I can't hear what you're saying.
We love our children, we want them near.
I can't hear you, turn the tv down.
My child is an animal, she walks on water, long legs arching around her,
Moving one at a time, she's graceful that way, I like to watch her send water
Flying, she moves her legs, there are seven of them, she rolls her eyes, they are
Shadowed like sunrise, she sweeps her hair, the wind lifts it, she gestures
With legs, she has no hands, she moves, she moves, she walks on water,
Anyone can do it, I taught her to do it, there's no magic to it, it's a matter of balance,
My child is an insect, her life is fragile, her body is slender, she has my eyes.
My child is a tangle of vines. My child is a tangle of roots. My child is a tangle of
earth.
My child is a tangle of stars. My child is a tangle of blood. My child was born on
Sunday. My child is still a baby. My child is a man, bring him to me.
I have something to tell him, I can't tell you. I have something to tell him.
Where is my child? Make him stop walking, he walks where he chooses.
I have something to tell him. Make him stop walking, too many legs, it helps him fly.
Where is my child? There's a story he should know to help him live forever.
I can't tell you. You wouldn't understand. It's about the night.
The night I found something lying in the grass. The story of that night is the one
He wants to know. My arms grew so long I touched the moon.
It was closer than it looked. He needs to know. My child has a job to do.
Bring him to me. look under the sky. That's where he belongs.
He might not be there. He walks where he wants to. Look under the water.
But start with the sky. Look under the stump where we lived together.
My child is a woman, bring her to me. I have something to tell her.
Tables of Content
Seventeen (Fall 2003)
Sixteen (Spring 2003)
Fifteen (Fall 2002) Fourteen (Spring 2002)
Thirteen
(Fall 2001) Twelve (Spring 2001)
Eleven (Fall 2000)
Ten (Spring 2000)
Nine (Fall 1999) Eight (Spring 1999)
Seven, (Fall 1998) Six, (Spring 1998)
Five (Fall 1997) Four (Winter/Spring 1997)
Three (Summer/Fall 1996) Two (Winter 1996)