Post-Op
 

Revision


Post-Op

Beneath where her breasts once were she feels snow.
She bites her tongue before the whispers fall out.

There are mornings when the day drops down on her.
A morning when peace is beyond her hand.

If she opened the window the wild daisies, wisteria,
The rhododendrons she planted would be strong,

The rich soil under the roots, dark as a night's peace.
Nothing can stay buried in that paradise.

She falls back on the bed, the tangled blanket.
Her hand rests on the valley across her chest.




Post-Op

Beneath where her breasts once were she feels snow.
She bites her tongue before the whispers fall out.

There are mornings when the day drops down on her.
A morning when peace is beyond her hand.

If she opened the window the wild daisies, wisteria,
The rhododendrons she planted would be bright.

The rich soil under the roots, dark as a night's peace.
All is sunny and fair through her closed window.

She falls back on the bed, the tangled blanket.
Her hand rests on the valley across her chest.



***I have no idea if this works. I'm posting it so I will stop toying with it. I hope it is good, of course, but I genuinely have no idea.

Hi John,

(I should say my first thought was that this was about a trans person. Now I'm not so sure!)

'The rich soil under the roots, dark as a night's peace.' is lovely.

[What was here only made sense within my misreading so I've nixed it for sake of clarity]

A quick return to give a little more insight into my reading of this --

S1-2 -- this is one of those mornings where the person seems to wake up feeling 'snow': cold, a little miserable.

S3-4 -- there could be a way out of this feeling if only she were to open the window and find the beauty of the world (that she herself contributed to).

S5 -- she doesn't manage to meet the world, returns to her tangled feelings. Seems to sense a lack that is also fertile and beautiful (valley).

So that's my sense of the strophes, how they move, what they seem to be saying.

I read it as a post-op mastectomy for breast cancer.

I similarly liked the rich soil under the dark roots.

But I am confused by the seeming contradiction between S3 and S4, where the world would be bright flowers if she opened her window, while remaining sunny and fair with her window closed.

Cross-edited with Joe -- yes, I think I'm off the mark with that one!

I probably shouldn't be attempting to comment on poems while teaching -- apologies for my semi-attention.

It makes a lot more sense as a general post-surgery poem, of course. I still think it lacks specificity -- I'd like some more personal insight into the person, the feeling, and so on. The second half of my prior comment is still more or less how the poem seems to move for me so I've left it intact.

PS: I feel very silly :-)

I think it's gorgeous and striking. I love the image of the light outside her closed window, but I'm not sure about the "sunny and fair" wording ... that might just be me though.

The inside/outside dichotomy made sense to me as someone who's been post-operative (though not a mastectomy) and confined to the inside of a room for some time.

I really liked the first couplet as it had some bite that matched the content. At the same time I really don’t like the last couplet for its directness and too soft image of valley.

I don’t know if the person is trans or if this is a masectomy— I think the reader only knows that the breasts are gone. I think there is a prettiness in the flower stuff and the sunny and fair bit that works against the poem. I think more in the vein of whispers falling out direction would give you a stronger poem.

Good luck with it.
Cheers,
Barbara

.
Sometimes first impressions make a lasting impression. I've only read this one time and my reaction is that I am left to wonder what the relationship is between the N and "her". The N doesn't seem, on first read, to have much of an emotional connection to her, though I guess you could say it's inferred by the metaphorical language. (The N may be numb with feeling.)The N must be someone who is close to her, but I don't get that sense much. There is a kind of "reportage" feel to the whole.

This is clearly about a woman who has undergone a mastectomy. The person who has just had a mastectomy is only referred to as "her". I don't get any indication that it is a trans person.

In terms of time, it is obviously post-op, but my sense is it's not the day or the week after. She is home and in a period of recovery. Perhaps a different title would help the reader to frame the time more accurately.

The second couplet has a plural/singular confusion to it. Instead of "a morning when..." would it be clearer if it read, "mornings when..."

I did note the full stops to end almost every line. Only the third couplet is a full sentence, which makes me wonder about the cap to begin L2 of that couplet. The rest are two sentences.

However, this line: "The rich soil under the roots, dark as a night's peace" somehow feels like an incomplete sentence. It got me to thinking if this poem might be better off with no punctuation at all. Hmm...

The fact that two women have responded favorably to the poem allays any doubts I have that the poem does not pass the "authenticity" test.

There are images that I like very much, but overall I'm still struggling with this one. Maybe my first impression needs a second impression : )

.

Yes, good point. I hadn't completely thought it through, but she may be going through chemo and not immediately post-op, since it sounds like the surgical site has healed.

.

I guess we're all post-op in the largest sense : ) It's a very, very long recovery (If we're lucky)

.

Thanks to each of you for the great notes.

My mother died of breast cancer. My favorite aunt died of breast cancer. I found out recently my first girlfriend/wife died of breast cancer. My wife and our family went through three years of her struggle with a breast cancer that wouldn’t stop. Then we found out she has the BRCA mutation, which my daughter also has. It is time for her to do what she has to do. My wife reminded me this is breast cancer awareness month, so I wrote this.

I guess the contrast between the world outside and the world inside isn’t working. I can see it is, in a word, superficial and obvious. The struggle she is experiencing is deeper than flowers/no flowers.

All I can do is think/try not to think and wait for something more.

Thanks for pointing out what it needs.