Paternal Poem
Most of you will already know that our daughter Nora was born in perfect health on July 1 (Canada Day, as it happened), and you'll all appreciate that we've been utterly absorbed in her normal needs and our new responsibilities. The good thing about poetry, though, is that it usually happens quickly and intensely, sort of like a diaper change. I've been writing some fairly earnest stuff about how wonderful she is etc., as expected, but the last poem that she's inspired is more light-hearted, so I thought I'd post it here.
The Bubblegum Baby
Her cheeks are so full
of themselves, they blow
up to such succulent shapes,
so pink and palpably delicate,
packed with a truculent
sweetness that bursts
when her breath tears its shell,
that we must choose
not to chew her too hard;
meanwhile she gives us
such jowls for our kisses
that it’s deliciously possible
to forget there are any
bones in her at all,
though she gums her own fist
and finds there are limits
to malleability, even in girls.
I suppose there is a slightly sexist overtone in the last few lines, but I'm not sure it spoils anything, or that it's entirely unjustified. I've broken up the lines (which began as four-stress lines with many kinds of feet switching in and out) to disguise the regularity of the rhymes (slant though they are). I suppose it could work just as well to have the poem read as follows:
The Bubblegum Baby
Her cheeks are so full of themselves, they blow
up to such succulent shapes, so pink
and palpably delicate, packed with a truculent
sweetness that bursts when her breath tears its shell,
that we must choose not to chew her too hard;
meanwhile she gives us such jowls for our kisses
that it’s deliciously possible
to forget there are any bones in her at all,
though she gums her own fist and finds there are limits
to malleability, even in girls.
To me, the longer lines here seem unnecessarily ponderous; I prefer the first version, I think, but wonder what others might say.
Sorry for the lack of baby pictures; I'll try to rectify this soon with some help from the baby's co-author.
The Bubblegum Baby
Her cheeks are so full
of themselves, they blow
up to such succulent shapes,
so pink and palpably delicate,
packed with a truculent
sweetness that bursts
when her breath tears its shell,
that we must choose
not to chew her too hard;
meanwhile she gives us
such jowls for our kisses
that it’s deliciously possible
to forget there are any
bones in her at all,
though she gums her own fist
and finds there are limits
to malleability, even in girls.
I suppose there is a slightly sexist overtone in the last few lines, but I'm not sure it spoils anything, or that it's entirely unjustified. I've broken up the lines (which began as four-stress lines with many kinds of feet switching in and out) to disguise the regularity of the rhymes (slant though they are). I suppose it could work just as well to have the poem read as follows:
The Bubblegum Baby
Her cheeks are so full of themselves, they blow
up to such succulent shapes, so pink
and palpably delicate, packed with a truculent
sweetness that bursts when her breath tears its shell,
that we must choose not to chew her too hard;
meanwhile she gives us such jowls for our kisses
that it’s deliciously possible
to forget there are any bones in her at all,
though she gums her own fist and finds there are limits
to malleability, even in girls.
To me, the longer lines here seem unnecessarily ponderous; I prefer the first version, I think, but wonder what others might say.
Sorry for the lack of baby pictures; I'll try to rectify this soon with some help from the baby's co-author.
posted by Brad at 5:14 PM
3 comments
