Thread: The Things my Father Gave Me

Poached eggs, nearly boiled
to the liking of my father
who feeds me artichokes,
wrinkled cauliflower,
mustered rolls;
who fashions
a metal zipper
for my mouth,
once digested.

Breakfast fit for a thing.

Go and sell type writers for work
so clients can key in stale words
for insurance contracts,
for real estate contracts,
for death certificates…

Sell them with your breakfast smile
to the hungry business masses and
come home to smile when you see
the scab on my knee from kid play.

Bring home plastic high heels
and watch my calves muscle.
Then, your little princess who
wants to please you walks
the carpet bare while you stare.

A dozen stars poach the night
while a serpent swallows
girlish gullibility.

Afterwards, I'm someone else's child.

Very dark. I like the near bookending of "poach" and "Breakfast fit for a think" is a wonderful play on words... and strikes such a sad note. The whole "hunger" motif is powerful and predatory here. I love the alliteration of "serpent swallows girlish gullibility", too. My only real nit is the ending. While "kill" is a powerful chord to end with, that last stanza seems disconnected from the rest. It needs a powerful ending, of course, but I struggle to find a recommendation since my head isn't occupying the same space. I would say it is near perfection.

J- Glad you picked up on the twin "poach", tieing in the begining toward the end. That would be "Breakfast for a thing" indicating debasement, considered a "thing" by the father.

While "kill" is a powerful chord to end with, that last stanza seems disconnected from the rest. It needs a powerful ending.


I will be giving this serious thought. I wasn't quite sure it rang strong enough signing off the piece. Off to work. Thank you so much J.

"think" instead of "thing" was a typo on my part. Sorry. I like the new ending.

Oh, typeoes! Make them all the time. That you liked the new ending pleases me greatly!

This piece literally brought bile to my mouth, I despise your father, he was an evil vile pig. I've said it before, but I just had to say it again. The fact that I wanted to puke means you did your job a little too well, which is a compliment I wish I didn't have to extend. "Breakfast fit for a thing" is nothing short of brilliant. The image of the zipper, the smile at your scab, and the line "serpent swallows girlish gullibility" are all excellent. The duality of bare is genius, please don't tell me which, I don't want to know. I much prefer the new ending, the prior one was a bit too abrupt, although completely understandable. The return to poaching brought it full circle very nicely. One question, in S1 mustered rolls, did you mean mustard? One little nit, typewriter is one word. Haunting, Laurie, and disturbing beyond words.

Lisa, thank you for catching the mispels wink. It almost sounds trite. We write what we know. In some pieces, I do go back to childhood and expose the demons. But not so much so. In a Woman's Writing Workshop once attended, we were taught "Never demonize your demons". Oh, this was so difficult to get onto paper in prose. Here, hey, he at least fed breakfast when in fact I went hungry. You must incorporate somekind of "humanity" or you'll be creating a one dimensional character. You begin to feel sorry for the outlaw. Viewing "Mommy Dearest". It was so over the top that I began to feel sorry for Joan Crawford! Also, a fine balance of words. No one want's to hear "Woe is me" e.g.

Then, your little princess

I/she momentarily feels a bit like royalty in this complex relationship. I could have written "Then, your little slave"
Much too much.

Thank you. my dear friend. You always understand my work and stand right by my side.

This made my insides go cold. It packs a hefty punch and when I got to the end there was a long pause before I looked away. It makes me feel it in ways I dont want to. It's difficult to take apart, except to agree with what has already been said, but it clearly is an excellent piece of work when it has the effect that it does.

You know these poems of yours about your childhood simply break my heart Laurie. Well done.