For Poets United Thursday Think Tank: Inanimate Object
Okay, so you didn’t want
to do the prompt. Fine.
Then suddenly latch onto me,
the pill box you hate for so
many reasons. Moment you
started writing, flooded
Her hands, skin so transparent,
delicate blue veins pumping
like soft breath. She was always
so tentative with touch, insecure,
unsure of day, but hoping to get
it right, or quietly questioning first.
All those things you don’t want
to remember, hold them against
me with hard plastic grasp, wanting
to slap them down, snap them closed
because you fear her reality is fast
becoming your own. Don’t want to go
there, even though you have no choice
because time is passing, and although
your voice is strong, will to follow
is as weak as delicate blue veins
tracing map filled with fallowed
I frighten you.
I frightened her too.
Certainly didn’t, don’t mean to.
Supposed to help, not cripple,
but feelings ripple through fingers,
are felt, absorbed and linger.
You touch me,
you touch her.
Like words whispered, bypass
synapses heading straight toward
That is the gift I bring: to remember.
To know that you are growing old
with each breath. And yes, death
will come at its appointed time.
You will find that you are ready.
You learned by watching her, just
as she learned by watching her mother.
I only do what I am created to do,
and you must do the same. Like me,
all the rest is passing now, through
Elizabeth Crawford 6/23/11
Process Notes: Yesterday, I wrote (for a prompt at We Write Poems) about a familiar everyday object, describing it and how it impacts on me. When I saw the prompt today (write in the voice of an inanimate object), I almost turned away, felt set up. But, then remembered all the responses and comments from yesterday’s poem. How my feelings were quite universal and easily understood. So, today, I found myself speaking on behalf of that not well loved object and learning something in the process. Whew!