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    The American Poetry Review

    SIX POEMS

    Jul 01, 2018 5 minutes
    SHARON OLDS

    The Enchantment

    When I said, to my mother, , my mother’sface seemed to unfurl from the center,hibiscus in fast motion, the anthersand flounces springing out with joy. , she breathed. , she laughed, with many little notes—half a scale, plus grace notes—, I asked. , she smiled. I thought I got it:that stunned look on my face, in photos,that dumbstruck look, gaze of someonewho doesn’t understand anything.But a week later, I thought it had beena look of wonder, it was bemused pleasure.And days later, I see it—that lighton my mother’s face—she loved me. And todayI hear her, she did not say .The woman in whose thrall I waswas in my thrall. I came into beingwithin her silks and masses, and after we aregone would she caper here, my firstlove, would she do me the honor of continued ensorcelling?

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