These parts
Where do you come from?
Here. These parts.
(‘In My Country’, Jackie Kay )
From underneath a rock
and I’ll slip back there
when I’m good
and ready.
From somewhere back
in the past you thought
you’d discarded
on an old park bench.
From your own head,
your dreams, your
prayers, your
worst nightmares.
From your lovers’ lips,
from your mother’s tongue
from the only friend
you’ll ever know.
From this side
of the mirror, from under
your left shoulder-blade,
from echo, from empty,
from yesterday.
From here. From you.
Right here.
Yep, I know this one is both lame and late. In my defense, I did start this on the appropriate day, but there was a holiday, and our garden needed some serious attention … (whimpering noises gradually moving off into the distance).
I suspect there are almost too many possible directions for this one to go in. Funny, seriously, poignant, menacing … oh well. Maybe I’ll come back to it.
This one poem every day is turing out to be harder than I expected. It puts quite a lot of pressure on just getting something – anything! – done and out there. Not the way I usually work. I just have to keep gritting my teeth and doing it.
Note to self – NaPoWriMo is about process, not product.
Remember this! It could save your sanity!
A Dark Feathered Art 
Actually, I don’t think it’s lame at all. I’ve skipped a couple of days because I was sick and way too fuzzy headed, so I still have this prompt to catch up on. I’ve been balking at it because I’m tired of writing nostalgia pieces, and yours avoids that nicely.
Thanks. I think the thing that is frustrating me about this particular poem is how different it was in my head before I started writing it. The prompt actually sparked for me – I think it was the “from spaghetti on Sundays?” bit. And the free-writing I did had all sorts of different directions going on, but they just didn’t coalesce in time. Hazard of the enterprise, I guess.
I love Jackie Kay. I also like this poem!