NaPoWriMo 2012: eleven
It is Always a Time of War Somewhere in this Imperfect World
She's moving the laundry inside,
there's rain on the horizon.
Yesterday, the man who held
the gun to her shoulders
watched her shake
and didn't say a single word
she could understand.
I honestly have no idea where this poem came from. I picked the photo (and processed it) and the opening line came to me and flowed from there. It is what I'd term a "gift poem." I have no idea who the woman is (in either the poem nor the photo, since they are not the same), but there are countless women with this story, with my story.
Having had a gun held to me, in a robbery attempt sixteen years ago, that juxtaposition of the threat of violence and then going back to one's life - and there being no mark to show everyone the line that has been crossed, the threat that had been made - that is a reality I am familiar with and interested in exploring.
On a meta-poetic note, you'll notice this poem has proper capitalization and punctuation while many of my poems do not. I really do play that by feel; some poems write themselves in lower cases and some follow the conventions. To me, that is just another way to play with poetic form. I grew up reading many different types of poetry and I draw from them all.