The First Vision
Sitting mangled in their chairs
like the losers
at a Borgia banquet---
my grandfather
my father
my stepfather.
Mother in a corner of the dining-room,
ignorant of her power,
urging the corpses to eat---
Eat! Eat it all up!
I made it!
Anguished at their ingratitude;
half-chewed meat falling like caterpillars
on their old-fashioned vests.
She didn't know
the roastbeef was poisoned..
It was the perfect cut
coveted by every family cook---
as it stewed it sucked,
it turned to juice the venom
lost in the air of the kitchen.
Still, Mother, still, still---
you'll scream softer if you think
of the hungry children in India.
Don't lean across the tablecloth.
Dont't look in
these outwitted thankless eyes.
Autor(es): Leonard Cohen
