Classic Poem

You who had the sense
to choose me such a mother,
you who had the indifference
to create me,
you who went to some pains
to leave hands off me
in the formative stages, —
(I thank you most for that perhaps)
but you who
with an iron head, first,
fiercest and with strongest love
brutalized me into strength,
old dew-lap, —
I have reached the stage
where I am teaching myself
to laugh.
Come on,
take a walk with me.