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It just occurred to me that I haven't posted any poetry and April is National Poetry Month!
I read this poem a couple of weeks ago when I found a used copy in a Virginian bookstore while on vacation.
The poetry collection is titled The Past Keeps Changing by poet Chana Bloch. Bloch was one of my professors at Mills College so I had to buy this book. (She's also the professor who introduced me to Gregory Orr's poetry. Swoon!)
Bloch's poem "The Family" unlocks a strangeness and intimacy that I like to see and read in various art forms. I'm also attracted to reflections of family and this one about a Russian woman and her nested dolls is quite beautiful.
The Family
INSIDE the Russian woman there's
a carved doll,
red and yellow to match her,
with its own child inside.
The smallest, light as a saltshaker,
holds nothing
but a finger's breadth of emptiness.
Every morning we are lifted
out of each other,
arms stiff at our sides.
In the shock of daylight
we see our own
varnished faces everywhere.
At night we drop back
into each other's darkness.
A tight round sky
closes over us
like a candle snuffer.
We sleep
starting at the inside.
The POV shift is interesting...almost like a narrator in the first stanza but when the story opens up, when the dolls are lifted and released, we are given their voices (their voices as one-- as "we") in the remaining stanzas.
The line breaks are brilliant. I love:
Every morning we are lifted
out of each other,
and
At night we drop back
into each other's darkness.
A tight round sky
closes over us
and the last two lines are hushed but so powerful that they're suffocating.
We sleep
staring at the inside.
Takes my breath away! :) Happy poetry month!
I read this poem a couple of weeks ago when I found a used copy in a Virginian bookstore while on vacation.
The poetry collection is titled The Past Keeps Changing by poet Chana Bloch. Bloch was one of my professors at Mills College so I had to buy this book. (She's also the professor who introduced me to Gregory Orr's poetry. Swoon!)
Bloch's poem "The Family" unlocks a strangeness and intimacy that I like to see and read in various art forms. I'm also attracted to reflections of family and this one about a Russian woman and her nested dolls is quite beautiful.
The Family
INSIDE the Russian woman there's
a carved doll,
red and yellow to match her,
with its own child inside.
The smallest, light as a saltshaker,
holds nothing
but a finger's breadth of emptiness.
Every morning we are lifted
out of each other,
arms stiff at our sides.
In the shock of daylight
we see our own
varnished faces everywhere.
At night we drop back
into each other's darkness.
A tight round sky
closes over us
like a candle snuffer.
We sleep
starting at the inside.
The POV shift is interesting...almost like a narrator in the first stanza but when the story opens up, when the dolls are lifted and released, we are given their voices (their voices as one-- as "we") in the remaining stanzas.
The line breaks are brilliant. I love:
Every morning we are lifted
out of each other,
and
At night we drop back
into each other's darkness.
A tight round sky
closes over us
and the last two lines are hushed but so powerful that they're suffocating.
We sleep
staring at the inside.
Takes my breath away! :) Happy poetry month!
