Some poets write about Corbusier or Stradivarius.
They write about Jacob wrestling with the angel,
about Gettysburg or the Persian Gulf.
They craft their complex, allusionary poems
stanza by stanza -- like Daedalus crafting wings
tier by feathered tier. My daughter breaks up
with her boyfriend and we lose an evening
to tears, to wails of pain. No one sleeps.
The next day she's flirting
with a boy named Theo --
she tells me I won't like him (piercings
and two tattoos). I tell her
that his name means "Lover of God."
I wish I could write a poem that would help her
to get along in this world with a little less drama,
one that would show her how to course over the winds
in steady flight. The feathers mount, tier by tier.
Blessed or unblessed, I write about my Icarian girl.
They write about Jacob wrestling with the angel,
about Gettysburg or the Persian Gulf.
They craft their complex, allusionary poems
stanza by stanza -- like Daedalus crafting wings
tier by feathered tier. My daughter breaks up
with her boyfriend and we lose an evening
to tears, to wails of pain. No one sleeps.
The next day she's flirting
with a boy named Theo --
she tells me I won't like him (piercings
and two tattoos). I tell her
that his name means "Lover of God."
I wish I could write a poem that would help her
to get along in this world with a little less drama,
one that would show her how to course over the winds
in steady flight. The feathers mount, tier by tier.
Blessed or unblessed, I write about my Icarian girl.
I'm just like your daughter, I won't say her name, drama and the like. Great wisdom that poem.
ReplyDeleteIs it that obvious who I'm writing about ;)
ReplyDeleteIt could be and old woman, me, but I'm married and not your daughter. Are we talking about the one of great price?
ReplyDeleteAh, very astute!
ReplyDelete