- Non-Erotic Poetry
- Before He was Him
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Click heretree dahlias in bloom, fifteen feet tall and straight as
that day we took our baby for a walk in his basic red backpack
it rained minutely, spattering the road, goading us to take him home
but we stayed and roamed the streets, admiring the maple leaf changes
and allowing him to sleep, his little head lolling to the side
blonde hair flying up in a crest, lips pouting in his sleep
and then our outing over, going home, he woke and asked for a drink
but it's winter when I close the album, as he comes in from school
and grunts at me whilst shutting the door, then goes straight to raid the fridge
all in the evening light that is greying like my hair.
- COMMENTS
buttersover 13 years agois this a 'before he grew into his own identity', or more a 'before he grew into the ways of his father'?
somehow i see the second thought coming through, with the (not uncommon) grunt and fridge-raid, the taking over the asking...
the one phrase i thought stood out, vrose, was this one:
but it's winter when I close the album
that speaks to me of a deep inner chill, a loss, a letting go...
i'd also tinker with the line-breaks, though wonder if you chose the layout to make it read as if the narrator is more prosaic, less emotionally attached than them looking back at the images of the infant would suggest.
HAMFANover 13 years agoI agree with 12 with this caveat - I perhaps see something like the memory of then and now, youth and age and ... this is the part that got me thinking ... the way in which our children are part of an us when young and gradually grow apart from us (a single us I note) in time.
But... it still needs to be worked up more; as it stands what I'm seeing is too faint.
After my disaster with fridayam I didnt want to vote V
twelveooneover 13 years agofor starters end the first line either here
tree dahlias in bloom, fifteen feet tall
and straight as
or here
tree dahlias in bloom, fifteen feet tall and straight
as
but after that I don't know what you are trying to do
