Hi Christina,
A lot been said about this poem, and it deserves the praise. Poems about
small things, ordinary actions - like doing something in a kitchen - can
carry so much significance. Childhood and heaven: there's vast spaces for
feelings crammed into that pot!
But do the tiles have to be mentioned as being white? It makes the word
white appear three times (including the title) in the poem. I guess a white
kitchen could have different coloured tiles so the colour adds to accuracy.
But could the cleanliness/reflectivity/shine/sheen of the tiles be shown
without using the word white again? It's an almost minor point - but the
only point I can see that I don't think has been mentioned before (and one
that probably matters more in another poem than it does in this poem).
Ha! It made me glance round the kitchen tonight while washing up and see how
much of a spring-clean wipe a lot of it needs!
Bob
>From: Christina Fletcher <[log in to unmask]>
>Reply-To: The Pennine Poetry Works <[log in to unmask]>
>To: [log in to unmask]
>Subject: New sub: White Kitchen (first draft)
>Date: Mon, 28 Oct 2002 16:07:44 EST
>
>
>
> White Kitchen
>
>
> This is the oil my mother gave me -
> she stood here (it was dark and gloomy then)
> and said, 'I think you'll like this.' And I did.
> See how the small light shines through virgin oil,
> the sprig of rosemary distinct, easy to draw.
>
> And here's her red, Helsinki pot. Look,
> the colour glows on white tiles - winter
> in Laivasilankatu, frozen harbour,
> drunks, dying in the snow, 'Uksi penny',
> in a park like a clip from Dr Zhivago.
>
> I cook red cabbage with apples
> and nutmeg in my mother's pot,
> in this new, white kitchen. The smell lifts me
> in its steam. It tastes of childhood
> and heaven. Still here. Gone.
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
> christina fletcher
>
>
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