the clincher
the clincher
by kj
dear me, damn my mother’s lips.
lips that blew up this polka dotted
inflatable swimming pool that
i pour her ashes into in accord
with her last pill and chocolate mint.
dear me, curse my mother’s
feet that trod so much mud
into the kitchen the day sister
fell on her face & never chewed
jerky smoothly again after that.
dear me: to the abyss with
my mother’s eyes that gazed
on my father’s gut so pregnant
with powdery potato chip cheese,
and made his bald spot reflecting
the ceiling fan’s light into a nimbus.
dear me, keep mother’s
hands out of the ashes
and in the remains. the
slack, taut, bony fingers
that nourished you and
made the veins in your
hands long and strong as
taproots that steady this
happy meal box as your
mother’s ashes fall among
the play place balls crowding
this inflatable swimming pool.
I like this a lot. Not sure if you need the second graph, but overall, loved it.
this is skill. such abject moments made magnificent in unusual connections that fit each other so perfectly and flow out as real life observed with real eyes that realize the beauty of seemingly uncomeliness. the vehicle of “dear me” works to carry me onward, though i would like to know if it is “dear me” as an exclamation, or “dear me” as the preface to a note or letter to self.
i like the taste and scent of this poem.
Poetry laden with absolutely wild universe of metaphors. This is way too powerful. Looking forward to Kj’s new works.
You had me until the last stanza. It just simply doesn’t work for me. The best kind of anaphora is the kind to leads to some sort of powerful image. The imagery in the third stanza is a much much much stronger image than that of the fourth.
Laptop submitted comment before I could edit: The best kind of anaphora is the kind THAT finally leads to some sort of powerful image. The imagery in the third stanza is much much much more powerful than the fourth.