Like Father, Like Daughter

father-mirror and family secrets, a moment in time and feeling

 

 

Like Father, Like Daughter

 

He sleeps

in a slump of flesh,

his straight legs crossed in front,

his head nodding, nodding

no, now nodding yes,

and he snores loud,

loud enough

to silence her tiptoes

and the squeak

of the white fridge door.

 

Opening and closing,

her hunger is a craving:

urgent bites

of pale lettuce

between soft white bread.

She eats like a dog,

gulp, and it's gone,

he eats like a pig,

chomp, and chomp chomp.

 

Now her eyes are on the yellow bits

stuck to his heavy face:

three kernals, one on top,

two on the bottom,

sit on his lips.

Again he cuts the solid fat,

one slab of butter

for each row of corn,

and that mouth of his

cuts a clean path down the cob.

 

She's lost all sense

of manners

watching him eat.

He's so animal.

She tries to shrink away

from the chomping sound,

from the corn smears,

away from the rope fingers

hanging over the table.

 

Author's Note

I thrive on any and all feedback

Reviews

[[untitled]]

I think what struck me most here was that you have given us this marvelous imagery and then you speak in these spare cropped words that leave no room for imagination...no, we are caught within the poem...like it or not. I found this a very effective way to handle your subject and your reader....well done.

[Leah Simone]

The rope fingers hanging over the table - such a chilling lasting image - and perfect - I never thought of how much fingers resemble rope with grooves and such - also I interpret this rope to be a bit of a lasso,
as if to catch a calf or worse to hang another person from or strangle. She shrinks back from this likeness,
suddenly aware of the patterns passed down - not wanting to be a part of that trend or those characteristics. Some claim mannerisms are learned, but then there are situations - such as adoption where child has not been around a parent - they just like in so many small ways - it makes one wonder
how much of ourselves are programmed genetically and how hard is it to reprogram ourselves through
rigorous practice.

I like this piece - oddly enough it reminded me of a young friend of mine who lived across the street - she was six at the time - talked non stop and ate corn like a speed typist - chchchchchc- ching -roll up and left to right once again breathing only on the return.

[Winter McPherson]

It made me cringe. The description evoked a visceral reaction. I didn't see how the daughter was like the father but perhaps that how she feels. Seems more delicate and dainty then the sloppy father.

[radian7]

You have a descriptive piece there. Lot's of sensory stuff. The daughter is observing her dad and at time comparing herself likewise. I expected to read abpout admiration, fondness etc but didn't pick up on that.
If I am not misreading she is primarily observing and comparing.