Tuesday, September 22, 2015
the incessant tinge of honesty
APOLOGY TO MY UNBORN
by
Alison Apotheker
of my making and unmaking -
my little stowaway,
my shipwreck,
my unmooring -
my seedpod, my tadpole,
my apostrophe -
my come again some other day,
my unnameable unnamed one -
my beloved
unwelcome visitor,
my could have been
chickadee,
my what if...what have you -
my lost forever palimpsest,
my anonymous love-letter,
my cracked egg, my empty basket of weeds -
my secret,
my sorrow, my undoing.
....
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ReplyDeletepowerful
especially the last line
ReplyDeleteI'm exceedingly perplexed by the sentiment in this poem
...
I wrote to her and asked, and she said she didn't regret the decision. I thought she meant by the ending that she was ruined or destroyed, which are the definitions of undone, unless you mean that your shoelace has come undone. I think she means rather that the child has not really messed up her life in the manner of a typhoon but rather in the manner of something that could have been that wasn't - a cute face on a train that went past, and you didn't have the chance to chat. I prefer the Shakespearean sense of undone! Un Donne! I had thought originally it meant that she was totally destroyed, and that it was a confession that what she thought was nothing turned out to be everything, and that now everything had been turned into nothing. My wife said that's what she doesn't mean. So I asked her, and she said it just meant that it was a bit tough, but that she doesn't regret it AT ALL and would do it again if she came to the exact same impasse in the manner of Groundhog's Day!
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ReplyDeletethank you Kirby for the background check