Oysters

Oysters we ate,

sweet blue babies,

twelve eyes looked up at me,

running with lemon and Tabasco.

I was afraid to eat this father-food

and Father laughed and

drank down his martini,

clear as tears.

It was a soft medicine

that came from the sea into my mouth,

moist and plump.

I swallowed.

It went down like a large pudding.

Then I ate one o’clock and two o’clock.

Then I laughed and then we laughed

and let me take note —

there was a death,

the death of childhood

there at the Union Oyster House

for I was fifteen

and eating oysters

and the child was defeated.

The woman won.