Mom’s Car
An explication of Walt Whitman’s “Song of Myself”
The womb around the womb,
of things that should reach with stainless steel extremities,
for a mother’s most precious keepsake,
but when in unison, this womb of metal and machina.
The incubation has long ended, still it welcomes me inside,
when it cannot hold me like it used to,
but the seats continue to correct themselves,
and so I stand-and-then-seated corrected,
I have for a while been unprecious,
and yet stretch marks continue to show,
the silver paint long faded into the gray of Mother’s hair,
the leather is not leather anymore, now it runs coarse,
the discoloration of stains, now ancient inscriptions,
to a womb that will never once break water,
how foolish it is to reach for foul things in the back seat pocket,
but upon closer inspection, melted red crayons,
vicarious afterbirth, where do babies come from?
they come home in cars like these, Mother knows,
but what of the maternal vehicle? no,
but I restraint when I ought to kick and pout
about what shortcomings compounded to Mom’s car
— but I’d still take everything back,
much rather take long trips across mountain peaks over dry desert plains,
the wheels keep turning, how dizzying it must be, but did they know they
were in Mexico? Pasadena? San Francisco? Berkeley? Los Angeles?
on their silver backs, sleeping children whose fleeting, warm breathes they
will never feel, does it know it’s not getting any younger?
how relieving and upsetting,
it will never be burdened to know,
but also that it knew me before I was born.
This poem was made for an honors project in my American Literature Class, replicating the literary style and world-building elements of renowned American poet, Walt Whitman, in his 1855 poetry collection, Leaves of Grass. Specifically, I take after the poem in that collection, “Song of Myself,” which finds liminality between the individual, communities, and a collective conscience. A special thanks to Dr. Elva Salinas for her counsel and mentoring leading up to the publication of this piece.
— Chicano poet from Southern California
