I can't help myself,
I think of you whenever
I use my thumb to break
a clementine's stubborn skin.
Once my nail passes through the stumbly surface,
it softens, unravels between my fingers,
with some coaching, coaxing, slight encroaching.
***
When we lounge around
our L-shaped, cherry colored couch
I can't just peel one for myself:
my one becomes two,
I always give the first to you.
***
Six months in
we spent a weekend by the beach.
You passed me a clementine,
and handed me those eyes.
My aunt oversaw and looked around
to twenty years of love behind her.
She predicted a demise and she instructed:
“Don't do that!
You have train him early!”
You have train him early!”
Train him? Maim him? Shame him?
For love's sake, why not help?
Still, I wonder
...without my thumb...
could he survive?
***
Am I my mom? Ten years and three kids later
will I laugh and say "I have four, if you count
my husband, which you should"?
Looking over my shoulder, will I see
twenty-year-old-me and make her take my blame?
"I never should have peeled that second clementine:
the fault is mine."
The children. What about the children?
What will you do when little Moishy
asks you to peel his clementine?
Will you say "Go ask Mommy" every time?
We won't be my parents.
I need to know you know
how to do it on your own.
I'm not your mother, maid or martyr.
***
I want to gift you, kiss you with this peeled clementine,
but sour-sweet as the juice that dribbles, stains my skin,
when my thumbnail probes too deep,
new ideas swirl and creep:
I'll to do this for you, but what'll you do for me?
***
A joke. This is marriage?
Disparaging remarks that mar our bond?
D-I-Y and just leave me alone?
I thought we got together to avoid
the need to face this void all on our own.
Wow, this poem told a story of present and future in such a short space. It's really cool how you took such a simple activity- peeling a clementine- and turned it into what that meant for an entire relationship. The desire of wanting to give to her husband while wanting him to give as well is depicted successfully through the clementine metaphor. I also liked how you tied the poem together by closing it with the clementine again to establish the metaphor completely. Also, the rhymes and alliterations were carried out beautifully. I especially liked "train him? maim him? shaim him?"
ReplyDeleteMy only suggestions would be to change the conversation with the aunt in the fourth stanza to sound a little less prose-y and maybe less sentences ending with question marks. Overall, though, I'm loving your poetry so far. Keep it up! - Abigail Adler
I thought the author did a great job using an extended metaphor throughout the poem. I thought the use of different stanzas/time frames worked well for her. I'm curious what the husband says, sounds like.
ReplyDeleteI think it really helps that you had the stars in between the sections to differentiate them from each other. The simple act of peeling a clementine was a cool way to tie it together.I like how you turned the clementine into something negative in this phrase " but sour-sweet as the juice that dribbles, stains my skin". It follows the idea of offering new perspectives to old ideas. I also like the colloquial quality of the question "Am I my mom?" It just fell nicely within the poem.
ReplyDeleteOne suggestion from me would be to make this sentence "Still, I wonder ...without my thumb... could he survive?" a little less casual and more poetically eloquent. It comes off slightly prosy to me.
I liked this journal-like poem, which borrows conventions from the memoir form but remains a poem because of your mostly musical and adept use of language. I trust the voice in the poem, because it is exact and understated. Obviously, the clementine images is the controlling metaphor for the poem, about unpeeling the truth of a fresh relationship.
ReplyDeleteThe poem is also about fear of becoming too much like one's ancestors, whose cynicism is off-putting when one is more passionate and young.
I have a number of small comments about specific lines:
This line strikes me as a little weak and too abstract: "Disparaging remarks that mar our bond?" But later in the same stanza, we get this lovely couplet:
I thought we got together to avoid
the need to face this void all on our own.
I like the internal rhyme with the "oid" sounds. I also like the vulnerability of the line.
Probably the most interesting line is this one: "Still, I wonder ...without my thumb... could he survive?" There is considerable tension in this line, because of the use of the word "thumb," which alludes to the metonym, "under my thumb," implying a sense of control over the beloved. This creates an effective tension in the stanza that adds complexity and interest to the poem.