For something half-full, NYC Educator has posted a beautiful letter from Lincoln to his son's teacher. Otherwise...
Mothers of America, let Tinkerbell die
Your daughters will walk home
Unlearning fairytales, night
After night, nothing but the spindly
Arms of trees scrawled on the pavement
He won’t be waiting in the doorway
With new answers, the mattresses lifted
From the pea, nightmares kissed
From her dreams, the sooner she stops
Seeing him around every corner
Carrying her lost shoes, so much the better.
Mothers of America, let Tinkerbell die
Your daughters will walk home
Unlearning fairytales, night
After night, nothing but the spindly
Arms of trees scrawled on the pavement
He won’t be waiting in the doorway
With new answers, the mattresses lifted
From the pea, nightmares kissed
From her dreams, the sooner she stops
Seeing him around every corner
Carrying her lost shoes, so much the better.
posted by ms. v. at 1:24 PM
3 Comments:
ms frizzle, this is wonderful -- I went to the link, but the poems there (while terrific) were different. Did you write this? It is bitter and beautiful. Thank you.
I wrote it. The link is a nod to the awesome Frank O'Hara, whose first line I blatantly stole. The fifth line needs work.
It is a lovely piece. I like it very much.
I don't see where that line "nothing but the spindly /
Arms of trees scrawled on the pavement" needs work. It echoes the dark enchanted forests of fairy tales -- the spindle that put Beauty to sleep -- the 'scrawled' stories -- twisted to contrast with modern urban sidewalks.
Thank you for showing it to us.
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