Two surprising poems

Not too long ago, I shared a poem with you entitled “Ugly Mother” which admitted my struggles with parenting. One of the lines was, “the child salts the wound, and then pops it in his mouth.”

I am fascinated by the way that we can subvert a reader’s expectations as poets. I am also fascinated with writing what feels utterly true. No bells, no whistles. Absolutely no frills. For me, this writing often has a grotesque element to it.

I remember watching an extremely strange movie in French class as a child where a man sewed a piece of his dead lover’s hair into the skin of his chest. How disturbingly beautiful is that? What a weird thing to show to children (leave it to French class), but it clearly stuck. Somedays I want to write poems that feel like that. Shocking and unsettling in how unflinching they are. Like a haunting secret dragged out into the street.

I think what I partly love about poems like this is their ability to surprise, or even shock - but not shock for shock-sake, shock because they put their finger on something so undeniably and strangely human that it grabs you by the throat. I’m beginning to realize that my very favourite poems make my eyebrows almost fly right off my face (if you see them, catch them for me, would you?)

I have another poem about motherhood to share with you today. This one’s fresh off the press, and meant for a more devoted readership, so I’ll only be sharing it here.

Secret Mother
When I’m alone, I talk about
my son out loud. I call him, “my little
baby puppycake.” I am disgusted
by the way I leak with love, but
I can’t help it. If I could I
would make a bouquet
of his fallen eyelashes. If I could,
I would tell you, nervously,
that I kept a whole bag
of his soft three-year-old hair.
One day, he might brush my kisses
off his cheek like they are
insects. One day, I will be a cellar;
all of this love left to ferment on dusty
shelves. For now, let me explain,
there was a bright call from a room
somewhere inside me, I answered it-
and it led me to him.

In our last Messy Writer’s writing circle, we read and wrote “unexpected gratitude poems”. I wanted to steer my writers away from the typical tritely positive version of gratitude and challenge them to look deeper. What are/ were some things to be grateful for that would surprise them and surprise the reader? In my opinion, some of our best writing yet came out of this session. The poem that I chose to showcase had some delightful images and lines and gave a very honest depiction of a complicated family relationship and a topic that’s not written about enough, in my opinion.

This is “Did I say Thank You Mom?” by Joy.

Did I say Thank You Mom?
Now that you can’t hear me,
take up a megaphone,
lean in with your long deaf ear
and pay attention.
Now you can adore us
In absentia like the lifeless
dolls you kept.  It is all
we ever wanted
and, oh, your love
without condition.
I’m thankful you tried
to mother in your own way.
We were caught in your orbit.
You rose and fell like a shooting
star I caught once in a while.
Did I put enough love into your
pocketbook of yearning?
Did I soothe your needs
with my enduring devotion?
I couldn’t save you like I thought
I would.
I revere the lesson you left
on how to die gracefully,
how to butterfly down the path
gently.  Thank you for the nights
I held your hands, tucked you in,
kissed you good night.
I treasure the years you accepted
my mothering.  They made me strong.
Something like you.

Authour’s bio: Joy is a writer and poet living in Troy, Michigan. She is retired, married to a man who paints, and has one son. She is a grandmother of two. In her spare time, she enjoys writing, art journaling, and is always reading a book. She has one Tuxedo cat named Juliet.

Editor’s note: I love some of the choices Joy made here with imagery and metaphor. “In absentia like the lifeless dolls you kept”, “your pocketbook of yearning” and “you rose and fell like a shooting star I caught once in awhile” all paint such a clear and compelling picture of her mother and the relationship without making things too literal. There is also a fine line walked here between presence and absence and something to be said about how the push and pull between these two things plays such a powerful role in a relationship. This is beautiful, brave work. Thank you for allowing me to share it, Joy.

Our next virtual writing circle is Tuesday, August 25th at 7:30- 9:00 pm ET and I’d love for you to join us. We will be deep diving into my favourite poem by Ocean Vuong and learning about how to create tension in poetry and keep our readers on the edge of their seats.

Our monthly sessions alternate Tuesday nights and Saturday afternoons. You are always invited to email me the poem you wrote in-circle for dedicated feedback, and video playback is sent out the next day if you miss a session. The sessions have been described by other members as exciting, evocative, engaging, fun, inclusive and inspiring. You join by becoming a paid subscriber. Come write with us!

Thanks for reading, and thanks as always for being here. Let me know your impressions of the poems in the comments!