Dream of the Daub and the Wattle House, and: Dream of the White Snakes

Abstract

Dream of the Daub and the Wattle House, and: Dream of the White Snakes Susan Terris (bio) Dream of the Daub and the Wattle House Because the straps on her straw sandals are frayedand broken, they flap as she enters the eerie wattle-daub house where she and her too-old,about-to-be husband will live. For you, he declares, as she reaches for a straw-stick broom and beginsto sweep up ants and beetles and spiders. Still, dream of a real house. Maybe of real shoes, too.No more tin-roof hut under a mango tree filled with tiny djinns. No more buckets of water to haul.He, the maybe-husband, has already planted himself on the front step to smoke, when a clutch ofmewling, invisible children presses up close to her. While her feet slap and she sweeps, the not-yet babiespinch, wipe snot lines around her bright kaftan. Wary, frightened, she whisks them out the door ina dense cloud of webs and beetles and ants, her eyes closed, so she cannot see that cloud settleon the never-husband's hands and on his hairless head. [End Page 105] Dream of the White Snakes The woman is sure the red-bearded boy knows somethingshe can't grasp. The dream—her dream—again and again white snakes come to her at night. What do they mean?she asks the boy who knows spells and can reach into the future. Do the snakes try to harm you? he says. Sheshakes her head. What do they do then? She tells him how snakes curve over her shoulders and wrap her arms.How they twist about her body like a smooth white belt. For a time, he sits cross-legged and silent by the river,rubbing his beard. At last he tells her, When the snakes come, feed them. They're hungry. Feed them milkweed—the pods and the leaves—and the babies you long for may come—first in your dreams, next in your belly, and then inyour now-empty arms. [End Page 106] Susan Terris Susan Terris's recent books are Familiar Tense (Marsh Hawk, 2019), Take Two: Film Studies (Omnidawn, 2017), Memos (Omnidawn, 2015), and Ghost of Yesterday: New and Selected Poems (Marsh Hawk, 2012). She's the author of seven books of poetry, sixteen chapbooks, three artist's books, and one play. Journals include the Southern Review, Georgia Review, Prairie Schooner, and Ploughshares. A poem of hers appeared in Pushcart Prize XXXI. A poem from Memos was in Best American Poetry 2015. Terris is editor emerita of Spillway Magazine and a poetry editor at Pedestal. Visit www.susanterris.com. Copyright © 2020 University of Nebraska Press