Wednesday, May 11, 2011

What she writes she will remember

(based on suggestions from @ernmalleyscat, @realnixwilliams, @jellyjellyfish, @_camer0n)

She writes what she will remember

about swimming and dolls.

Instructions for diving under waves

and conducting wedding ceremonies

for soft toys. Yellow teddy bears

marry small blonde dolls and

pour forth disproportionate babies.

Even stuffed animals divorce.

Baby girl pens serious poetry,

none of the plastic sarcastic ink.

Her first epistle to future daughters

fixes the difficulty in a mother’s eyes.

She notices adult words and turns

over clods of earth as secrets.

Digs up “You don’t say!” into truths

you don’t say. Little pitchers.

The best place to photograph a daughter

is the soft neck curve between earlobe

and collarbone. It is laughter and

causes fits of wriggles. Seven lives

out of nine are giggled along before

she can spell her doll’s name. Catch her

skin quickly before you discover

you’ve kissed a photograph.


Today's poem is based on suggestions from four peeps:

  • @realnixwilliams: “the seventh life”
  • @ernmalleyscat: “Before you reach 100 I’d really like you to do something on this I’ll tell you the real story then.” (The link is to the photo I've posted here)
  • @jellyjellyfish: “Swimming”
  • @_camer0n: “ ‘You don’t say!’ ”

I love this photo from @ernmalleyscat. I have no idea what the story behind it is, and at first I thought it was a baby sibling beside her on the step, but I think it's a doll? And I'm not sure what she's doing, but I decided it could be drawing or writing. So I made her a little story from there.

When I was younger my diaries were basically repeats of beach-swimming stories:

"We went to main beach this afternoon. It was quite cold. Leah came too. I dived under a wave."

and tales of what all my dolls and teddies were up to:

"Yvonne married Big Teddy. There was quite the turnout. The bridesmaids wore pink."

These are actual quotes from my 8yr old diary, by the way. Some of my younger diaries demonstrate what children hear, and understand, that we mightn't think they would. Little ears catch big thoughts. I should remember that.

Six poems to go...

No comments: