To one side, the North Sea like lead,
to the other, tulips, too bright, too colorful,
and your finger hurts. You are tied
to the big belly of the dike, your finger
a reverse umbilicus that sucks the boyish
into responsible sea. My complaint concerns
childhood, the premature loss thereof.
Mother, from under one of her headaches, told me - cook dinner:
fish sticks, spaghetti sauce,
beef Wellington, hummingbird's tongue under glass.
How did I know we wouldn't wash away
like silt in the burst? The Provider,
the Protector, the Pleaser, Good Boy -
it's ingrained like the fat that marbles
choice beef. But there's no choice.
When the gloomy sea threatens, you're there
with your trusty finger. The bicycle lies forlorn
on the gravel bicycle path in the shadow of the dike.
The family windmill is brittle and blue as a scene on a plate.
Yet your other hand, the one with the free digit,
reaches for the painted flower heads
bobbing in their painted flowerbeds.
This is a small poetry club that started as a poetry email exchange between two friends. Our goal is to read a poem everyday, and this blog is one way to help keep us accountable. There is only one valid rule in poetry club: there are no rules in poetry club. Read any poem, in any order, with any or no interactions. You decide. We only suggest you read poetry!
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I don't understand the finger references. Pointing...blaming? A Father pointing, blaming "my complaint concerns childhood, or the premature loss of." Sexual abuse by father? "The Provider, the Protector, the Pleaser, Good Boy"
ReplyDelete"Your finger hurts"
"your finger a reverse umbilicus that sucks the boyish into responsible sea."
"When the gloomy sea threatens you are there with your trusty finger."
"With your one free digit"
Like he is in shackles with one side of his body and still free in hope with the other. The imagery of the bicycle....childhood..."lies forlorn"
This is sad...
Why doesn't he fight back. "Engrained like the fat on beef..."
Cool perspective. The description of the windmill ties in why he has to work. It is interesting, why the flowers and tulips? Not a common interest for boys. This adds a complexity to the boy. I'm not sure what's up with the finger.
ReplyDeleteChildhood is a relatively new invention. This boy misses out because his family needs him. At first it seems unfortunate, but earlier today I listened to a podcast on point of reference. Now, I cannot help think about his point of view. The boy's loss is due to his surroundings. The other boys are probably out playing games and having fun. I wonder how all the boys and girls felt before there was childhood? When cooking, cleaning, fishing, or farming were part of being a son or daughter. Did they too long for the painted flowers and beds?
One last thing I cannot let go. Why is it in the Netherlands when the boy sounds so American????
Wow- I was way off Lol.
ReplyDelete"Childhood is a relatively new invention"- so interesting and so true. I think this is one of the things that I think about a lot when the idea of raising your own children comes to mind. It is a whole different world out there. I was sitting across from a few, probably 10 year olds, at the library yesterday whose main vocal words were "fuck ya" and "dude". Not real sure if they have ever even "seen" painted flowers and beds.
The Dutch Boy poem its truly a poetic masterpiece of a boy in America who stopped his town from flooding
ReplyDelete