May I Stay?

[Apostrophe]

I stand large and hopeful
on his Welcome mat, as he cracks the door
and peers out with one watery eye.

"May I stay?
I'd like to say I won't
take a great deal of room,
or eat too much--
you'll hardly know I'm here."

(All lies, words defied
as I ease past into his flat
with this belly, 8-months wide.)

Books! Books!
a hoarder of books!
I ask him to read to me,
and I listen without hearing

while considering the books:
novels piled, heaped, mounded
like dusty snow drifts.
His voice melts away.
(I'm afraid: may I stay?)

"What is it that you plan to do?"

I think of diapers, spit-up, midnight squalls,
and look at him:
knobbed fingers twitch
for a Lucky Strike,
his face white-cold beneath
a cloud-like whiff
of spare winter hair that shivers,
brushed thinly to one side…

I decide.

"I plan," -- I say --
"To make a fort. Of books.
An igloo, big enough for two!"

He pauses.
"Or three?"

I pause.
(The books are quiet, too.)

At last, he nods.
"Right. Coffee in a thermos, and
peanut-butter-jelly."

He stacks, I sneeze.
We widen the doorway
when I can't squeeze
through, and he sits with me inside.
We eat drip-jelly sandwiches
as slits of late-noon light
make motes glow
and shimmer
with life...

"You do know
that I have nowhere else
to go...?"

The books,
of course,
are quiet.

[Apostrophe]

Feedback appreciated...

[Delta40]

I read this earlier - twice. I rather like it, assuming the voice of the unborn. I'm slightly confused on the 'dialogue' but that's ok since I'm a poor critic at the best of times. I especially liked:

You stack, I sneeze.
We widen the doorway
when I can't squeeze
through, and you sit with me inside.
We eat sandwiches
as slits of late-noon light
make motes glow
and shimmer
with life...

You know I have
nowhere else
to go?

Is a question mark needed at the end?

[Jack of Hearts]

Hey, liked it.









J

[PrinceMyshkin]

It has the randomness of a mind that's been taken over by someone or something else. Assuming that the pregnancy was unwanted, the reference to the other person's Lucky Strike has a bitter irony.

[hillwalker]

I really liked this - the very-much internalised dialogue of the unborn with nowhere else to go. There are some great lines - '...this belly 8-months wide' in particular shows how light a touch you have.

H

[Apostrophe]

Well, I'm glad you guys liked it, but it's clear it still needs a lot more work, as this wasn't meant to be an inner dialogue at all. I see what you mean about the dialogue being confusing, Delta, and I can see how someone might think it was a conversation with the baby... which would make this poem very confusing indeed.

I added a few more details and some punctuation that I hope clarifies this some more. I do very much like the IDEA of having a dialogue with an unborn child, and maybe that will inspire my next poem :)

So: is it clearer now? Does it still need more work to paint a strong picture? I'm not sure I've been successful in setting a tone or mood, so to speak...

[AuntShecky]

Okay, this may be coming from way, way out in the left field, but--
Is this a former self exhorting the speaker if "he" could stay? Like James's short story, "The Jolly Corner?"

With the attention paid to books, could the "he" really be the "she" who longed for a literary career stopped by the sidetrip to motherhood? With the line about the igloo being "big enough for two," perhaps the speaker believes she could juggle both careers?

I never thought the dialogue was with the gestating baby, as in these lines


I think of diapers, spit-up, midnight squalls,
and look at him:
knobbed fingers twitch
for a Lucky Strike,


I do believe that the pronoun "him" doesn't refer to the fetus jonesing for a butt, but to the aspiring writer.

I realize I can be dead wrong about this, but hey, your ol' auntie feels adventurous from time to time and wants to take a risk, even though she may end up looking like a damned fool.

[Apostrophe]

Geez. You guys are clearly used to deeper, more profound poems than this one. I think maybe I'm out of my element here.

The poem is straightforward: the speaker unexpectedly shows up on an old friend's doorstep, straddling the line between hope and despair...

Maybe it would've been better off as a short story, hmm?

[Delta40]

lol. No, no! The wonderful thing about poetry is its many interpretations. Unless you need readers to grasp exactly what you're trying to convey, then you may have to be less abstract but I really enjoyed this piece apostrophe.

[Haunted]

whatever changes you made must have worked, I didn't read it as an internal dialog at all. Just a very lost mother-to-be showing up at someone's place, bearing what appears to be a fatherless child. Plenty to like in this artful and touching poem.

[Bar22do]

It was clear to me from the beginning, Apostrophe, though now reads easier to me and I appreciate the changes you've introduced. It's a good poem with some powerful images. I love it a lot and thank you. Bar

[Buh4Bee]

This is very good! I so appreciate the edits. I read this again and again, and kept saying, what is this about? It is now clear as a bell as and wonderful for it. I just adore this piece! What fun, so very dear! A little sad, but kind of hopeful too! A single mom, meeting a man, who seems to be somewhat receptive to her.

[Apostrophe]

Thanks for your feedback, guys, it's really helpful.