Seventy years ago my mother labored to bear me, A twelve-pound baby with a big head, Her first, it was plain torture. Finally they used the forceps And dragged me out, with one prong In my right eye, and slapped and banged me until I breathed. I am not particularly grateful for it. As to the eye: it remained invalid and now has a cataract. It can see gods and spirits in its cloud, And the weird end of the world: the left one`s for common daylight. As to my mother: A rather beautiful young woman married to a grim clergyman Twenty-two years older than she: She had her little innocent diversions, her little travels in Europe— And once for scandal kissed the Pope`s ring— Perhaps her life was no emptier than other lives. Both parents Swim in my blood and distort my thought but the old man`s welcome.SourceThe script ran 0.001 seconds.
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