These poems were inspired by psychoanalytic work with children. In writing the first poem, I had in the back of my mind the dreams that children tell, experiences children have when they are sick and must remain in bed, and the half-waking, half-sleeping hypnagogic experiences children sometimes report. There is an evanescent, now-you-see-them, now-you-don't quality, as if such dreams swim in a misty haze.
The second poem is for children who have found ever-creative and almost irresistible ways of getting under their parents' skins. Both poems are really to children and for children in a way, hence the playful structure.
I am hoping this column will inspire other child analysts to send their poetry in to The American Psychoanalyst's poetry column because working with children can stir up such a rich tapestry of material in the poet's mind.
There are moonboats in the nightThat circle the evening star,And dragonflies made of light.If you leave your door ajarThey'll fly so softly inBetween the horns of the moonAnd leave their dust and butterfly rustIn the starlight striping your room.Don't touch, don't move, don't breatheKeep motionless in the night,For these are living thingsYour eyes have caught in flight.Your eyes have seen their movement throughYour cool and quiet roomAs the moonboats sail from a comet's trailSparks light up the gloom.You must remember they can't be heldOr stopped or stayed on their way,And no two are alike, you know,And they can't be seen by day.They come when they will (sometimes when you're ill,Or lonely in your bed.) Spinning and sportingYou'd think they're cavortingRight there, inside your head.But they're real, you see, (between you and me,)And if the moonboats land,Like the evening star, wherever you are,They're starlight in your hand.
You could live in a 'shroomAnd there'd still be roomFor a fish, a frog and a fly,You could bring a small lightPaint the inside brightBut your parents would ask you WHY?!YOU COULD LIVE WITH USWHY MAKE THIS FUSS?You shrug as your reply.You say, “I don't know,”And just watch them go!While you smoothly roll your eyes.You could move right inTo your mushroom skinAnd watch the world go by.Mother and FatherWould cause such a botherBut you? You'd never give in.
Sheri Butler Hunt, M.D., is an adult training and consulting analyst and a child supervising analyst in the child division at the Seattle Psychoanalytic Society and Institute. A published poet and member of TAP's editorial board, she welcomes readers' comments, suggestions, and poetry submissions at .