Compost Studios

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Veronica McCabe Deschambault, V-Grrrl in the Middle, Compost StudiosTM

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« Namur, Belgium | Main | My get-up-and-go got up and went »
Monday
Oct152007

Wild about Wendy's work

I don't remember precisely how I met Wendy. I think Neil at Citizen of the Month played Jewish matchmaker and introduced us to each other online. Wendy is a teacher, photographer, mother, and horsewoman in Colorado, but it is her poet's soul that binds us together.

She participates in a number of writers groups online, writing pieces in response to prompts given by the groups' leaders. I think I've been reading her blog for at least a year now, and I've watched her skill as a poet blossom. Her poems are rich in imagery, layered in meaning, and yet accessible.  Her latest poem hit me right in the chest and made me exhale a soft breath. I keep coming back to it.  I couldn't NOT share it with you.

Since I'm being bold and STEALING this poem from Wendy's site, you must promise me you'll go over and visit Quiet About a lot of Things and check out more of her work. It would also be really nice if y'all would leave lots of fabulous comments here and that way she won't be mad at me and print out my photo, add a moustache to it and then post it on her site. (Sisters do that when they're pissed off,  you know.)

Here's the prompt Wendy received and was asked to write a poem in response to:

I wish I were close
To you as the wet skirt of
A salt girl to her body.
I think of you always.

***'Salt girls' boil seawater down for the salt.

And here is Wendy's wonderful response:

Always was

It was just yesterday,
the first time I let you.
No, that is a lie;
I WILLED you to
unbutton my blouse.

I dared you, in one look,
to slide your hand up.
Damn the torpedo's!
And the sisters. Damn
all those good girls
their brittle rules.

Break me! Like
my shell makes
no difference
at all. Open
me like an egg,
crack me, open.

It was a
thin skin
always,
this space
between
you and I.

So, it was.
All ways was,
waiting for you.
For Your Fingers to
come, your fingers.
Pick that button.

Poem by Wendy of http://quietaboutalotofthings.blogspot.com.

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Reader Comments (7)

Wow, wow, wow. Incredible.
October 15, 2007 | Unregistered CommenterKelby
There's a lot of energy in those words! Incredible!
October 15, 2007 | Unregistered Commenterwordgirl
Thank you, this is delicious and delightful. I printed it, adored it. Thanks for sharing!
October 15, 2007 | Unregistered CommenterDi
not since There was a Man from Nantucket have I been so touched. ;-)

Just foolin' very nice stuff, thank you for sharing
October 15, 2007 | Unregistered CommenterfuriousBall
dang it all, where did I put my husband? I'm feelin a need,,,,,,,,,,
October 16, 2007 | Unregistered Commenterimpy
V-This poem definitely took me back ... and took my breath away with the memory of that urgency, that breath-holding anticipation ... that passion of first love. So powerful for such few words. Wendy should be compiling a book of her poems. I think her stuff is at least as good as the English professor here locally who won a Pulitzer for her work. Seriously. Thanks for sharing it and pointing us to Wendy's site.
October 16, 2007 | Unregistered CommenterShirley
My favorite line is short but sweet:

"crack me, open"

That little bitty comma breaks that phrase and makes the words reach farther, with the shadow of the ordinary meaning trailing behind. It becomes a line about both of them opening up to each other. I love how the egg is a symbol of life and potential, fertility and fragility.

Then the stanza about there only being a thin skin between them recalls the image of the egg again to me, that fine membrane between the hard shell and the soft contents. Of course, there are other 'thin skins' suggested too, but hey, I'm not going any further here. : )
October 17, 2007 | Unregistered CommenterV-Grrrl

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