the age of responsibility

the dentist reshapes 

the bridge of your nose

his breath of garlic

it seeps from your pores 

while you sleep

but when you

have a real problem

you call the plumber 

to fish out your stomach lining 

from the sink drain

using an eggbeater

that he operates 

by pumping air 

into a rubber bulb

that’s spent too much time

seeing the inside of organs

like the piñata that you raised 

high up to the oak beams

with your climbing ropes and 

split open with a pick axe

out poured whole chickens

and blood sausages, hams 

and the lies 

you told to your children

Reviews

[Eilis]

There is a sense with your poems that there is an inciting image and the remainder of the words trickle out from there. Like it’s one thought taking shape word by word. Here there’s a collection of words and images that are incongruent with our understanding of roles and purpose but in the context of the poem they make sense.

The final, somewhat straightforward thought makes me think that the hinge of the poem is this relationship between responsibility and feeling unequal to it. After all the plumber is hardly qualified to tend to the ‘real problems’ anymore than a piñata is filled with a plethora of meat.

Being a parent is something you can only learn by doing and so often you get to the end of a stage and wish you could restart because you understand something you didn’t at the start. And when our own childhoods are filled with difficulties with our caregivers and ambiguities, the job of being a parent can seem so overwhelming and confusing.

The poem feels like a dream that is bordering on nightmare but at the end you gain some sort of clarity/control over the direction. The lies we tell our children can sometimes seem like the only thing that can be said in the moment, and sometimes they are the most compassionate things we can say.

Life is confusing, ha. Your poem offers some sense of that space where we look at it all and wonder how to even begin, who to trust and especially if we can trust ourselves. At least that’s where it’s taken me in this moment. A powerful thought

[SkinlessFrank]

Thanks for those thoughts. Sometimes, when confronted with a complex reality, parenthood in this case, it can be difficult to make sense of things. It is a bit like that time right after waking in the morning when the brain struggles with the transition between dreaming world and the real world. The transition and struggle feel almost like physical work to me. I like how you picked up on this. I think we face that struggle in our lives as parents. We feel that we should be the wise ones, but half the time have no idea what we are doing or saying. We lie when it is to protect our children, but are the lies doing anyone any good?

[dia's diary]

very well described! I appreciate your thoughts.

[CLR9]

This is kind of up my alley. Pretty good stuff sir, please write more.

[. serah .]

-- sometimes, when we read something, it becomes personal to us...such as now... -- for most of my life, i didn't have any real conversations with my mother... but everything changed in the last few years... because i landed up on her doorstep with injuries from psychological (and physical) violence... and she could finally see that i had been reduced to nothing by an unkind life... -- meanwhile, india is going through a journey of her own... -- we have conversations every day... about every lie... about india... and these conversations bring us closer... -- we are friends... and sometimes she is my daughter... and i confess to the secrets i kept from her...

[Poetic Justice]

I think I love you...your a genius and I want my children to have good genes..email me your sperm.

[nivram]

Wow!! Great way to open eyes

[not here]

Reminds me of Ted Hughes.

Well done, Frank

[David Scott]

I see your shy about using caustic metaphors. ha. Good poetry. i will remember not to eat garlic while at work... or lie to my kids for that matter.
Be well.

[Kaa Na Kalyanasundaram]

great write. with regards

[Audrey Howitt]

This piece, like many of yours for me, is one to sit with--always a visceral read, I so enjoy your work!