Aileen Bassis

A Girl Who Was Born Without a Mother

Title of a painting by Francis Picabia

She could be progeny from another
               universe where metal coalesced
                              with blood and salt—she emerges
with a scattering of nails and rust,
               chewing gum and baby hair.
                              She’s a riddle, a koan, one hand
waving hello and the other
               hand drumming fingertips on a table top,
                              flipping cards, red on black
and black over red. She spins in place
               for Dada, her twentieth century fathers:
                              Francis, Tristan, Marcel,
ragpickers in the war-torn afterbirth,
               chanting “Everything is art” for art is nothing:
                              stacked urinals and broken chairs,
alarm clocks and comic strips.
               All the while, this muse, motherless
                              houri, Dada’s amuse-bouche in shades
of dun, descends the stairs, nodding yes
               but mouthing no—no, no,
                              I have another hand to play.