Habit(at)
I loved sunshiny golden
afternoons, when I swallowed the whole world
with book in hand, I blocked out
the mower’s snarl, tangled emotions, memories
and floated
away, to an existence
where life showed logic, and the people
were bright, technicolored,
vivid.
In my small child body, I watched a forest
of knees and waists,
navigating burgundy tiles
through folding tables topped with fellowship and food.
A smiling face topped by white wisps leaned down
and asked if the thumb in my mouth was vanilla
or chocolate: it was chocolate.
The communion of bread and laughter covered up
small talk
and the press of people hemmed me
out
Liz, I enjoy the vivid imagery in your poem. Love the phrase "the communion of bread and laughter."
ReplyDeleteI love this poem. I really enjoy the glimpse into your view of church and community. The last line and title truly tie the poem together. You're able to mesh both experiences perfectly without coming right out and telling us.
ReplyDeleteThere are so many beautiful phrases in your poem that really add to the overall atmosphere of faith and childhood nostalgia. I loved the line "the press of people hemmed me out like a good book" -- so many of your lines connect to my own life and feelings about reading and faith. I think the ability of a poet to connect with her readers is so important and you do it so well! :)
ReplyDeleteI still have much affection for the title of this poem, and the word choice is fantastic! I can't help but smile when I read the word "burgundy."
ReplyDeleteBeautiful discretion through out the poem. I like that you explored describing taste, sound and texture as well as visual aspects of it. It is different and refreshing to use more then just one sense to relate to a poem.
ReplyDeletegreat poem, but did you purposely put "out" by itself at the end or is that a blogger mistake?
ReplyDeleteyeah, the word 'out' is purposeful…I wanted to convey a sense of comfort, as in "hemmed in," but I also wanted a sense of possibility and imagination to come through.
ReplyDelete