In thinking about my family history, I saw the image of a ball of tangled yarn. My mother was accomplished in needlecraft, but she got tangled up with my father, a bitter alcoholic. And that made my childhood chaotic and crazy. I also like the fact that “yarn” means two things--a story and wool to knit with. Words with double entendres or ambiguity often attract me.
Here is a poem that takes a knitted scarf and pulls it apart, a metaphor for what we do with our family “story” when we examine what really happened.
The Scarf
I find it in the attic, a knitted jumble.
The moths have had their way, birthed
tiny winged creatures, left lacework in their wake.
I find an end, work loose a strand,
pull it gently, release the weave of years,
smooth out the long toughness of the yarn.
It falls in circles at my feet, like the first curls
of a daughter’s hair, the curls her parents
snipped with silver scissors, then
pasted in a baby book to mark a moment
when the beauty they had made
was enough to make them whole.
PROMPT:
1.Think of your childhood and write about any object that seems significant to you.
2.Choose a specific object, like the yarn above, not an abstract idea.
3.What object do you have today that belonged to your mother, father or significant caretaker that seems to symbolize something about their lives?
4.Find an object from your parents or grandparents that seems odd or mysterious. Write about it and create its significance to your story.
5.Take your writing and put it into lines and stanzas. Experiment with different stanza lengths. Try one long stanza. See how this changes your work.
