A Poet to Her Poetry, A Heated Teakettle

By Alison Rollman

A Poet to Her Poetry

Inspired by Anne Bradstreet’s “The Author to Her Book”

Image courtesy of Max Sang (flickr.com)

Image courtesy of Max Sang (flickr.com)

I create an ice-rink fantasy world
With the flick of my pencil,
The snub of my burnt-out, blackened eraser bit,
The chit-chatter
Of my cereal crumb computer keys.

And you, poetry, are my creation –
My figure skater of sorts –
Into a world of cliché, angst
And metaphor.

A perfectionist’s nightmare;

A world hazed purple and finger-painted
With the innocence of morning dew,
The saccharine tang of strawberry jam.

More dramatic than anything that I have ever known or seen
To be real.

I read you out loud, always,
My voice rolling over the rivers of each r,
The flightiness of each f,
The suggestive flirtations of each s,
The suspense inherent in every comma and apostrophe.

I relish the sound of your syllables
And their pulse against my teeth.

Each line break
Is a delicious yet fleeting afternoon nap.

I dictate you, my poetry, to myself,
Describing things that I have never felt.
Molding, creating, handcrafting,
Envisioning in entirety
My ice-rink fantasy.

A frozen, gleaming castle
In which you, my dear poetry
Are Queen
Along with the King of Dreams in the Land of Hyperbole.

Syntax, your servant,
And diction
Your lowly slave.

The Heated Teakettle

My fingers come together
Unconsciously
In tight balls of salt –
Seething in synch
With the pressure
Furrowed in my forehead.

My back is erect and perpendicular,
Ringing with tingles of alarm.

Quivers of the past spit though my viscous lungs
Like cars cresting
Across a water-frosted freeway.

Image courtesy of Velocia (flickr.com)

Image courtesy of Velocia (flickr.com)

Grudges that have been festering
Since the creation of human fault
Suppurate in the pit of my gut –

Now boiling over,
As the heated teakettle screams
In rhythm with my body
And the lightning of my heart.
 
 
 
 
 


AlisonRollman_pictureAlison Rollman is a seventeen-year-old student from Los Angeles, California. She is a nature-lover, art-maker, letter-writer, kundalini yoga teacher, and amateur vegan chef.

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One Comments Post a Comment
  1. I love the way these poems juxtapose the sensory with the intellectual and the banal with the sublime. I am a fan, Alison. And I am impressed with the YARN forum. Congratulations! Such a pleasure to read.

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