Seeking Protection
Only eleven and already we build armored torsos
to prevent viruses disguised as handshakes.
We try all the keys,
yet they are foreign like orbits.
Where is your hand sanitizer?
Yearning for acceptance,
our nerves tickle inside pockets,
cell phone vibrates even though
it’s not there.
While mothers cook outstanding pasta dishes
and fathers mullets tarry their culture,
we nip at cacti for nourishment.
We are Supermen, however,
if only in magazines.
Saving memories only
of our parental victories.
They will always run circles around us.
Our parents were softer than theirs
and we're softer than our parents.
Questions bellow by us-
What do you want to be?
Do you have what it takes?
Inferior as they are, these inquiries are liquid
and we are bone dry for other geniuses
to tell us what to do.
We attack altars, sifting clues,
locating origins of our hostility, not accepting
answers shot upon us like numb lasers.
Ambiguity scoffs at the pews like squid
inking their terrain.
Insignias reign, the pious viruses
cling to our doubts and impulses,
thicken tongues, shrink minds,
scare hearts.
Darren,
ReplyDeleteAs usual, very interesting imagery in this draft. I have never thought of passing germs in this way, but I doubt I will ever forget the phrase "viruses disguised as a handshake" after reading this. I really liked the way you have presented a variety of situations in which protection is being sought. Also, I think you have stumbled into some very fruitful subject matter with the idea of generations becoming "softer" over time.
Within these ideas, however, does the reader get enough of a description about where we are in the poem? How could this draft be made more "filmable"? What kinds of sensory images could be added to create a concrete sense of place? I kept thinking about this poem taking place in a school (but that's probably just the teacher in me). What happens to meaning if the draft were to be set in a museum, a military base, the local mall, a pet shop, or a dentist's office? No matter where the poem is set, would it help the draft to experiment with details that anchor a clear sense of location for the reader?
There is a lot of material to work with here. I dont' ever get a sense of the spearker in this draft, because there is so much going on here. In the end of the draft, I feel like we are questioning church or religion with the talk of alters and pews. This is an interesting area that you could expand on and make into its own poem. What makes the spearker attack and question the alter? What happens as the speaker sits in the pew and listens?
ReplyDeleteAlso, this draft could be rooted in a little more reality. What if we were in St. Mary's on 10th Steet for example and describe the way the building made the speaker feel with all the gothic imagery as they walked into the church.
Just a few ideas to think about for the next draft.
This is a great draft! You have a lot of interesting language here and some cool phrases. Overall, the draft is pretty surreal, and I think that for the sake of the surface reading, it could be reigned back in a bit, without sacrificing the variety in the imagery.
ReplyDeleteIn the first stanza, "We try all the keys, yet they are foreign like orbits" for instance, "orbits" is a very specific noun, and does not seem to be related to the rest of the piece. "Yet they are foreign like a stranger's touch" or something like that could more closely speak to the idea of 'seeking protection.'
In the second stanza, when you talk about phantom vibrations from cell phones, will you consider using the phrase 'phantom vibration?' I just think that's a cool phrase and this is a great place to use it.
I think that the objective for the next draft should be to clear up the surface reading a little by looking at some of these moments where the language is a little more 'out there' and tying it back to the rest of the piece, and on cutting out what is not necessary.