The Scene

The Scene
Thrown forward by the deafening concussion,
blinded by the fragments, we sink down;
dream images & memories blot our thoughts:
the dragons from our storybooks, the elephant
with writhing proboscis who scared us in the park,
the big bird with red hackles who gobbled at us like an irate uncle:
they swim thru our brains like minnows.

We recover lost toys: Teddy-Bear who burst,
covering the dining-room rug with sawdust, the puppy
who died of distemper, the tootsie-toys that broke
(red cars& fire engines that never ran us down)-
here they are again: look! we can play with them forever!

Mother comes in and bandages our red knees:
the clock on the kitchen wall hurries us thru breakfast,
but we get to school late again anyway; Teacher looks up,
then slashes at our papers, savagely, with red pencils;
the bully humps our nose-but what's all this mud?!
mother will scold us for dirtying our clothes! Let me alone
Stop pinching! Why are we crawling on hands & knees?

This isn't war: this is every day.
The dragons are invisible & real.
For God's sake, somebody bandage our knees! Teddy-Bear has burst!
The puppy has died again! Get away, Uncle, get away!

Jackson Mac Low
22 October 1945
New York