People Who Give You Things

People who give you things they meant to keep
but can't, because it's time to let them go--
what do you tell them? "I prefer my sleep
not stitched with your regrets"? Or, "Sorry, no,
my closet's bursting: there's no room inside
for faded wishes, for the tight despair
you've tried to squeeze me into like a hide,
and I with so much of my own to wear!"
But how can you refuse them, when they come
night after night with armfuls of the stuff
they made the wardrobe of your childhood from,
left over from their own--and still enough
to dress the present--and the future, too,
stuck with boxes to pick through after you.

A perfect poem? The sewing metaphor is subtle
and unobtrusively woven into the texture as a
controlling figure for the touching theme (“stitched”;
“tight”). Flawless technique features a great volta line that introduces a startling idea. The sly pun on “present” in line 13 impressed me, as did the syntactical complexity.

Hi Len -

This is absolutely exquisite. My favorite of the nine you commented on.

Catherine Chandler

I liked the sonnet; its situation was all-too recognizable. It's written by a woman. But who? Who uses the word "regret" the most, almost like a signature? Hm. Must think.

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Svein Olav (The poet formerly known as Solan )

Yes, and I love the skillful use of enjambment throughout this piece. Very fluid and graceful.

Wonderfully complex and subtle.
Janet

Almost perfect conceit, and it wears its art as gracefully as a finely woven piece of tapestry. This is another one where the form seems ideally matched to the content -- no separating the two.
RPW

Of course this is Rhina and I'm more than happy that I had the good sense to realise that it was the work of someone who understands poetry and subtlety. The form is quietly employed and the meaning is woven deeply into every line.

Janet

[This message has been edited by Janet Kenny (edited July 05, 2005).]