I just had another thought. For the last stanza I could add another line, being able to say a little more about the "trouble," then end with a one line stanza, "She shuts the door firmly behind her." What do you think?
Happy first day of spring
Granddaughter at Sixteen
A peal of laughter seeps through the wall, whirls
dust into a golden galaxy in the window's light.
Inside, her room is a kaleidoscope of crumpled
clothes and incense, an ever-present phone,
psychedelic sketches hanging askew, a patchwork
of red textbooks and pink paperbacks.
She pliés, plucks a bright rag from the floor,
slips it over her slender neck, and it falls,
polished silk, to sheath her lithe frame.
Her flexible backbone twists her upright,
she glissades to the kitchen, cell to her ear,
a rosy shell. She's all creamy-skinned ease.
She bows before the refrigerator and rises
with a bowl of chili and sharp cheddar,
spoons it through the perfect coil of her mouth,
and still her skin is scented with honey, her breath
a confection. I'm astonished this is the surly girl
who threw herself on the floor wailing at fourteen.
She moves to the den with grace, her arms sweep the air
as if pruning the past, praising what is yet to come.
She opens Pandora on the Dell, turns the volume
to a high, throbbing beat. One raised eyebrow
expresses her boredom with my company. Leaving
the music to pulse, she spin-steps back to her room.
She shuts the door firmly behind her. Tendrils
of my DNA spiral in her cells, filaments of ancestors
incandesce her flesh, and sometimes she half-laughs,
a gesture, her mother's and mine, that climbs down
the family tree into the future. I foresee challenges
for her, troubles that flow in our tribal/inherited/familial/genetic blood/veins.
or
She shuts the door firmly behind her. I foresee
challenges for her, troubles that flow in our tribal/inherited/familial/genetic
blood/veins. Tendrils of my DNA spiral in her cells, filaments
of ancestors incandesce her flesh, and sometimes
she half-laughs, a gesture, her mother's and mine,
that climbs down the family tree into the future.
Ruth,
ReplyDeleteI really love "she's all creamy skinned ease." That's fantastic language. as far as your questions go: I like the idea of ending on an action, or a tangible image that conveys deeper meaning, like the grandaughter who is shutting the door, but also ignoring her past and where she came from. Tribal might work well, although it makes me think that you are referring to Native American heritage and I don't know if that is intended. What about just "that flow in our blood?" Eliminating the adjective is often the thing to do.
Speaking of adjectives, look especially at your second stanza. There is some thesaurus language (sheathe, lithe, glissades)-all beautiful words- but they get in the way of the imagery. Let that imagery do the heavy lifting in this poem. Her shutting doors and turning up the music is going to resonate the most.
There is still some point of view trouble here. This isn't an omniscient narrator, because this person uses the I voice. I assume it is the grandmother speaking, but she seems to be floating around like an omniscient narrator at times, being able to see in the granddaughter's room and smell the granddaughter's breath when I am not convinced she has these powers. If she is really downstairs, give her a body or some action, perhaps some interaction with the granddaughter. That type of imagery will really drive the poem too.
Again, this is fun and a great subject. These are all just suggestions for a worthy poem. If you post that other piece you were working on and I will try to look at it before your April deadline. You might shoot me an e-mail telling me you posted it. Otherwise I can't tell when things are posted unless I check. akeener@iastate.edu
Anna