When I am a mother my hair will be waves
like the hair of my mother before me.
My children will long to lay mortar.
In the heart of this city I'll show them
a towering slender steel building which tapers, is topped by
a drunkard's idea of spacecraft. I'll tell them,
"America pierces the sky with a saucer
for nothing except for so people can reach it,
so people can pay for the fact they have reached it.
America's captured a sky, and the sky was not always
as blue as the eyes of my parents before me."
In the heart of my home in the dark
I will say to my children
as we are all crouched in the corner,
"Be silent, American hivelings. Be still
lest the naked bear get thee."
When I am an elder my hair will be sparse
like the hair of the old folks before me.
I'll say to the children, who swarm my stiff knees
and who long to spread outwards,
"God does not pick sides, but we chose him.
We are his choosing people. We've claimed him.
America's planted a flag on the moon
and has wired the wind so it billows
and stands still erect in the barren and humorless silence.
America's chosen both God and the moon
and there's still many choices before thee".
In a bare-slatted room, by the warmth
of the furnace, I'll tell them,
"Ai-ae-ya, be still, O America's larvae.
Be still lest the men of old get thee.
Lest the kings from the hills jolt awake like the tales
of my bearded godfather before me".
(Y) your a fine writer! keep it up
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