Sunday, April 20, 2014



Whatever comes out of today's NaPoWriMo prompt should be interesting. It's "to write a poem in the voice of a member of your family." This is followed by various warnings, ie. feelings could be involved. No kidding. Like, what could possibly go wrong? Still, I'm feeling resistance on this one. 

I keep thinking of family members whose voices I could borrow: Dad? Either of my grandfathers, neither of whom I remember meeting because they died when I was a baby? 

Speaking of babies, what about the one I miscarried? I seem to be leaning towards borrowing a voice that is no longer on the planet. 

At least, not that I can see. 

What Became of Me

I can't say it wouldn't have been fun,
you and your crazy friends,
your unexpectedly doting families.

What was it my father said,
"just take it to my mother; 
she's always wanted a grandkid."

And I'd have loved her, too, 
her market garden stuffed with produce,
her prize-winning peaches, 

the way she'd drizzle balsamic vinegar
over thick slices of tomatoes
that lounged seductively on lush green basil.

You really weren't ready for me,
your party days at a zenith, 
less than no money in the bank,

and my father—seriously, 
what would you have done 
with him in your life forever?

Still, I appreciated those few weeks 
I spent with you. I know I was wanted.
It was I who decided against staying.

As for what became of me—
I live on as occasional memory.
It's all any of us can do.



P.M. Fong said...

You should be bronzed and placed where people could lay flowers and cabbages at your feet and sit on a bench nearby to read your poems out loud.

Anonymous said...

I like PM Fong's comment, but would ask that they wait until you die with no poetry left in you to do the actual bronzing. This is such a touching poem and prompted a few tears. You've joined the ranks of my favorite poets, Linda. Always richness in every read. But, proving I'm not a robot is a pain in the butt every time. Is there any way you can just approve me for life so I don't have to try and try and try. I can guarantee they will always be plaudits, given past experience in reading your work. Judy (Okay--third try. These encoded letters actually give me a headache. I can see three letters in every one. Just have to guess which is the one intended.

Carla Braidek said...

Linda, you definitely have a knack for bring up the depths that lurk beneath the surface of words. This poem is amazing. And I love that it was unexpected. Those are such gifts.

Linda Crosfield said...

Thank you P.M., Judy, and Carla. From the bottom.