- Non-Erotic Poetry
- No one taught you how to lay concrete
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But from the hayloft
you and sticky-eyed kittens
watched father pull the hoe
across the lime-crusted wheelbarrow.
You told Mom it was like gravy
in a mashed potato dam.
From Nana’s porch
you saw the gears catch Allen’s fingers.
Held wet washcloths for the blood.
Held wet washcloths over kitten’s eyes
softened crust, drained the puss.
You wiped counters.
The women said,
This is how we fix a broken cake
with icing, use the knife
to even ridges, scrape powder
from the side of the bowl.
Today you do not call for help.
I watch you fill holes,
patch cracks in the steps
that lead to your house.
You scrape excess cement
with the edge of your trowel,
pull it smooth before
before preparing chicken
for the evening meal.
- COMMENTS
Bill Dadaover 18 years agois as mundane as mutaual (ah, there is that extra "a" I've been looking for). This poem is as extraordinary as the woman it is about.
WickedEveover 18 years agojust saying it's not mundane.
I did cringe reading about Allen's fingers and the puss. I'm squeamish.
TheRainManover 18 years agoI question the structure of the second strophe, simply because it is inconsistent with the rest of the poem.
To me, it looks better this way:
From Nana’s porch
you saw the gears catch Allen’s fingers,
held wet washcloths for the blood
and over kitten’s eyes,
softened crust, drained the puss.
Your human look at every day items is very professionally done. You stay at a distance, and never ever allow sentimentality to creep into your poetry.
Anonymousover 18 years agoSorry. I disagree. Not spectacluar. Mundane. But then I am not in the mutaual stroking society.
lobomaoover 18 years agothe stop gap
patchwork patch job
wordsblended and bended
on your tricky knife
spread thick grouted
to careful lines between
an amazing moziac of images
we all step back and are amazed
swirlly wrilly grrl
ishtatover 18 years agoYour capacity for the observation and description of small events looks so natural but isn't too easy to imitate .Incidentally in the UK you are at liberty to lay, lay down, pour and even place concrete.
Queen Of Heartsover 18 years agothe sixth poem I read today, and one that had the greatest imaginary. I like the title and how it lead to the first line of the poem. It is in need of better punctuation, but it didn't take away from the flow or the message.
Maria2394over 18 years agoAnna, come spend a day with me at work. Watching the pour, when it has to go up 110 feet is amazing..I always wondered how they "did that".
You are so versatile. Your work shows this. You handle any subject with knowledge, grace and enviable ease.
This is lovely. sorry for the shallow praise, but it is. Thank you for letting me into your life, again
xoxoxo---maria
jthserraover 18 years agofrom the edge of a trowel. Reminiscent of Maxine Kumin's In Country and other poems.
nicely done,
jim : )
ps: quick construction lesson... you'll want to "place" concrete instead of lay it. Of course if you say that we'll think you work construction.
Anonymousover 18 years agothe metaphor in this as well as the raw emotion expressed in your language. Good use of similes as well, makes the poem more engaging. Great title!
