Dandy Note #5: Wasting sweetness

It is joyous to write poems for other people–a hobby that would be impossible without reading others’ poetry. 

The poem on my wall is an excerpt from a book I haven’t read, The Painted Drum by Louise Erdrich. My mom copied a few lines down and sent them to me from Maine to Virginia on thick paper bright with her watercolor crayons. Is there anything better than getting a letter in the mail? Is there any handwriting more lovely than a mother’s font? The excerpt reads:

Wasting sweetness is a funny point of entry for hope, but picture it!

Picture the earth with her tongue out, waiting for that fallen fruit.

Imagine mealy apples perforated with worms as they sink into the ground or grace an animal before descending into dust.

Sweetness for whom?

Wasted on what? 

Here is my mother’s version:

Notice she made it pretty.

Notice she added line breaks.

Notice it all matters—

The colors, the placement of the words, the way the text looks on the page, and how it hits emotionally, not because I understand the context of the quotation, but because I no longer need characters or plot once the piece announces itself as poetry. Whether it was meant to be or not, anything that, when received, feels like a fat morsel in your cheek, sugary as hell and dying to meet its maker on your tongue, could be a poem. And then it does.

I keep this one on my wall to remember to taste what I haven’t savored and call my mom and say thank you and write back.

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