Our challenge this month was to write “In the style of…” Lucille Clifton’s homage to my hips. Specifically, we agreed to write in honor of a body part. Well, hello humanity, This Was Hard. I mean, not the poeming part so much as the honoring our body parts part.
Tanita recommended we watch Ms. Clifton read the poem aloud, instead of just reading it ourselves. That helped. She was funny and bold and irresistable. And then we talked about youth and age and society and … I don’t know … I think we got somewhere! Then? We wrote.
homage to my clavicle
after Lucille Clifton
by Liz Garton Scanlon
this bone drifts like a tilde
across my shoulder,
suspends itself
like a strut
so i don’t cave in
upon myself,
turns
like a little key
when i reach or wrest
or wave goodbye.
this bone, like that one
and that one and even
those, they construct
the house of me,
the room i wake up in,
the creaky floors, the doors
that sometimes stick,
the space i make
for myself.
Find my pals’ poems here:
Tanita
Tricia
Mary Lee
Laura
And Poetry Friday is being hosted by Janice at Salt City Verse!
Looking ahead… in June we’ll be writing poems entitled Wabi Sabi, which refers to the Japanese idea around finding beauty in the imperfect and incomplete. (HOW interesting that this follows on the heels of our body part odes, huh?) Anyway, join us?
Oh, Liz, I love the parts about the house of me, and every creaky bit of it. This is lovely.
This is a quiet, perfect little nest of a poem that so tenderly cradles the reader. It’s got a “room of one’s own” sense to it that feels just right. I love that sometimes we can shout a thing and other times hum it, and the song resonates the same.
Liz, it is like a tilde, now that you say it! My son broke his mountain biking, and his is now shaped like a Z. I love that you selected this unique body part for recognition. : )
Good job, Liz! I like how surprising “clavicle” is and how it winds up connecting and supporting, being a key but also just one part of the creaky whole.
Confession: I think there’s nothing sexier than a clavicle revealed. The tilde is a teaser!
Liz, I’ve never seen the word tilda used in a poem and in your’s it’s just right to describe a clavicle. I also like the comparison of the skeleton to a house, with a room you wake up in!
Oh, I’m so grateful to your lovely house for holding you and your beautiful heart inside, Liz. This is just wonderful. I feel like we need to get pre-teen and teen girls also writing these poems. Maybe we need a campaign of some kind.
Yes to the tilde and to “the house of me.” Whoda thunk that the clavicle would ever rank its own poem?
I love that you gave such importance to this body part, bringing it all together, a ‘glue’ of sorts, your clavicle, bringing together “the house of me”. It’s a new idea for me, and I love it, Liz!
“they construct/the house of me” YES! I love this.
Those last lines:
the house of me,
the room i wake up in,
the creaky floors, the doors
that sometimes stick,
the space i make
for myself.
*Love*!
It’s a tender, accepting, forgiving, loving homage to the house that has served you well, will continue to shelter you. Lovely.
Terrific Liz, especially fond of your poem as I’m familiar with our clavicle from teaching anatomy in my life figure classes. The comparison with a tilde is excellent as both float, as is the movement of our clavicle as we twist and turn. Though I love your closing lines personal description and your house 🏠 connection—what a fun poem. Would love sharing it with my students too, thanks!