Hi Christina,
I like poems like this! An account of ordinary things that become
extra-ordinary in understated ways. OK I guess a thousand macaws isn't
ordinary -but the way you mention them seems reflective more than exciting.
All the images linger...
The intruiging word, for me, is "wild" - I'm happy wondering how much irony,
or how much it's a hint it is of things to come in the other poems (if more
poems appear). At the moment I don't want to know!!!
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: Amigos (first draft)
>Date: Sun, 1 Jun 2003 05:34:26 EDT
>
>It's so quiet I thought I'd post this though I won't be at the computer
>after
>today until the end of the week so please forgive a slow response to any
>comments or suggestions. The dedication probably won't be in the final
>version
>since I hope it'll be one of a set.
>bw
>christina
>
>
>
>
>
> Amigos
> (for my mother)
>
> Here we are, the only record: blonde and brown,
> a moustachioed Canary Island smiler
> flexing his pecs to your right, feathery palms sprouting
> like wild hats over our heads. 'Pull your hair back, girl.' -
> for once, I've two eyes, an almost smile. You're wearing
> that full-happiness face you always showed the camera
> though you'd cracked your skull on the bar of the jeep.
> That was the day we saw macaws fly free in the parrot park,
> thousands of birds, flitting through orchids: masked
> and Madagascar love birds, rainbow lorikeets
> that perched on shoulders to nibble lobes.
> It was the day of the night we hit Amigos and the waiter
> thought we were sisters and
> served single roses with paella.
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
> christina fletcher
>
>
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