Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, UNDER THE ZANZARIERE, by JANE MILLER


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

UNDER THE ZANZARIERE, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: She put the comb in one hand and with the left waved. With that
Last Line: Persistent voices, like whispers in another room.
Subject(s): Girls; Gays & Lesbians; Mothers & Daughters; Secrets


She put the comb in one hand and with the left waved. With that deliberate
ambivalence I've come to hate. The slow kiss which lands on my face like a
wasp. It began in childhood. Mother desired her and they spent hours together.
If not in the garden surrounded by dahlias and clover, inside the musty hallways
or under the zanzariere.

They very deliberately excluded others, though I should say they were kind to
me. When they bathed I listened, not to their laughter which in itself was
omnivorous, but to the splashing, the pauses. I had too much respect for Mother
to be surprised. For example, her choice of linden flowers for the bath.

They went on like this, conspicuous in the dark. They would brush each other's
long heavy hair. Mother was terribly young, but not at all innocent, as you
must realize. Once, on the terrace, a liana plant straining toward light amused
them. She let Claire eat its flowers.

The thought of them upstairs in their horribly white chamber, with late
afternoon light, disgusted me. I began to study insects, collecting their
persistent voices, like whispers in another room.





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