FORBIDDEN FRUITS

At first, I was born and I had all I wanted.

Then I turned 1 and was told what I could not want.

And so my longing was born. My belated shadow.

At 2, it was forbidden to whine about longing,

so I learned to hum and sing and whistle and cry.

At 3, it was electric plugs and switches that were prohibited,

so I learned to beg for one more story before lights-out.

At 6, it was colorful candy that was vilified,

so I stuck my fingers in the Hungry Caterpillar book.

At 9, it was lovely laziness that could ruin my life,

so I wrote stories about princesses who had it all and lied around all day.

At 12, it was sultry smoke that was made to look ugly,

so I drew pictures of punk girls smoking cigarettes that they couldn’t smell.

At 15, it was understood that the boy next door might as well be in China,

so I wrote him and he wrote me back.

At 20, I moved out and, finally, I had it all.

By 30, ten years were lost to satisfaction. 

I had had it all so much and so many times

that I was tired of it.

So I broke the last taboo 

in my feminist family

and had a baby.

I breastfed him until he was 2, hoping to satiate his longing,

So then he learned to laugh himself to sleep.

I was pleased he barely whined.

At 3, it was electric plugs and switches, and so his longing was born.

His delayed shadow. 

And my shadow was now layered, filtered & transformed.

The opposite of longing is not the loss of desire,

it is the caring for love acquired.

At 20, he will have moved out and until then,

I will take care to leave room for his shadow when I hold his hand,

paying as close attention to his ethereal as to his material.

And maybe, he can have it all, in a way, in his way, on his way

to fulfillment, never needing to reach the end of his desire.