Mobie Dicke
My sweet dame of fire
Ickle Ockle Blue Bockle
Little bit of bite to catch
Kit and caboodle and kirtle green
Soup, eat soup, devour hearty
Oar splashing down in the velvet lake
Please, my sweet dame of fire, sink
Before that clock stops once
Unto the sea now quick, uncle
Ten thousand steps down deep
Tons of netted thrush thrown back
Over thick and tattooed shoulders
Never again, love, never carry, and do not stoop
My name is Fronia Kemper, and this poem, Mobie Dickie, reminds me of being six years old, swimming in my grandparents’ pool, and creating a whole mythos about it in my tiny mind.