jillypoet: mom trying to write

Each day I wish I had invented waterproof sticky notes (for shower inspiration) or pen-friendly diapers to get down all my quirky thoughts that I am sure are relevant and publishable. And so God (actually another writer-mommy) sent me The Blog.

Tuesday, October 30, 2007

Trick or Treat


Transformation, or: Why Mommy Needs a New Pair of Black Boots


It began
with a bit of green
around my temple, a smear
edging out into the ridge
of my cheekbones,
creeping up the lip of my jutting chin.
Each evening coating my moon
face with smooth
white cream
I watched flesh-colored
pieces of me circle the drain,
disappear down its dark
winding labyrinth.

Conversations with
a murder of crows
took on new
meaning.
Daily,
I came to prefer
their raucous affirmations.
Nightly, I longed for a beak,
a dank tongue,
tail feathers.
I beat my breast
raised my arms
prayed for flight,
woke to find stiff lengths of straw
between my legs,
a nest of midnight cat hair
molded in the crook of my arm.

Costumed
so many years
as mother, wife,
plain woman, it was a relief
really, to slide into new bones.
Pure ecstasy to thrust
the soft-edges
of my hips, my elbows,
my Puritan chin,
out through the remains
of my old, used skin.
It is the balancing of pelvis
to broom handle
that has me in tatters.

10 Comments:

Blogger Jo said...

Now this is excellent. It really insinuates itself.....

4:23 PM  
Blogger Pauline said...

I was so hoping you'd morph into a crow! There are so many good lines in this poem. As a whole, it is much more than its parts.

6:54 PM  
Blogger jillypoet said...

Interesting that you should mention morphing into a crow. My original intent was a witch, then as the poem progressed, it began to write itself and it appeared to be heading toward crow...I veered it back on the path of witch, but honestly it felt like I should have gone with crow, gone with the way the poem wanted to go. A sticky point with poetry...go with original intent, or let them poem shape itself. Any thoughts?

6:58 PM  
Blogger Karina said...

This was wonderful...such imagery...it had me beginning to end.

9:13 PM  
Blogger Kimberley McGill said...

I absolutely absolutely love this!
I don't know what else to say - it is so damn good.

When I read it, it felt to me like a witch crow morph.

11:51 PM  
Blogger tumblewords said...

Excellent work. I generally think that a poem goes where it needs to go - but that's my opinion. I love the way this one turned and turned again.

12:13 AM  
Blogger Jo said...

I get crow from second stanza moving to witch in third......which is wonderful as I can just see that bird as the link between the two; enabling the witch's flight.

3:06 AM  
Blogger Rambler said...

Costumed
so many years
as mother, wife,
plain woman,

lovely lines ...
very nice

9:02 AM  
Blogger gautami tripathy said...

"Pure ecstasy to thrust
the soft-edges
of my hips, my elbows,
my Puritan chin,
out through the remains
of my old, used skin."

I loved those lines. Very cool poem!

10:35 AM  
Blogger polka dot witch said...

ok. let me just say that the balancing pelvis on broomstick is one of my favorite lines ever. and i also like--love!--straw between my legs.

i didn't mind the shift from witch to crow ... very similar in flight and appearance ... i think you could make both work in the same piece. i don't htink you have to choose.

i always envy your ability to juxtapose images. i think you can do that here.

9:52 PM  

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