[Chelsea McClellan]

Hi, all. This is my first poem to share with this crowd, and it is my most recently written from last week. I am interested to see what thoughts you might have to share! (I have thick skin; please don't hold back because I'm new to here.) It is my take on a spenserian stanza, and it does attempt to make use of mixed true and slant rhyme.



Like Grandmother, Like Granddaughter


Postpartum bodies do what they will do.
No sweet talk rushes them to crochet faster.
I used to want to learn to knit. Still do.
Always too slow, I ran out of time to ask her
and though she’s still alive—if you ask her pastor—
she doesn’t call me back with any help.
I guess she’s still annoyed that I harrassed her
with all those garden questions I withheld
until she died. I’ll have to learn to knit myself.

Diastasis Recti’s what they call
the gap between our abs we feel post-birth.
Lace curtains where there should’ve been a wall.
It’s funny just how often it occurs.
How many daughters don’t take time to learn
their mother’s recipes until their own
daughters ask how grandma knew to turn
the crochet hooks just right. Had she been shown?
Or did she have to muscle-up her grit alone?





S1L5: removed "!" after "pastor"

[Yves S L]

Hello Chelsea,

Initial impression is that there is not enough material for the stanzas, and consequently I interpret many of the lines as breezy filler, even though you are deliberately doing conversational digressions.

But perhaps the way the poem is not quite knit together is thematically mimetic.

Reading the poem again, I think my issue is mostly with the second stanza, particularly with the return of the diastasis recti/crochet motif. I feel like you are taking way to long (stretching it out excessively) to say what needs to be said because a form is being filled:

It’s funny just how often it occurs.
How many daughters don’t take time to learn
their mother’s recipes until their own
daughters ask how grandma knew to turn
the crochet hooks just right. Had she been shown?
Or did she have to muscle-up her grit alone?

But I keep changing my mind, since maybe the grammatical turns of the references to daughters and mothers and grandmothers is mimetic of the crochet.

I don't know.

Yeah!

[Hilary Biehl]

Hi Chelsea,

I enjoyed this. Here are my thoughts, in no particular order –

I’m curious about the mixing of knitting and crochet (and related metaphors) in this poem. They are different crafts, though some do both, of course – but I wonder if it wouldn’t help the poem to pick just one, even if the grandmother is one of those multitalented individuals. I think it would hold the poem together better and avoid giving the impression that the N doesn’t know (or doesn’t care) which craft her grandmother actually practiced. I didn't mind the bringing in of other skills, though (eg recipes, gardening) as those ones seem sufficiently distinct.

I like the lace curtain/wall metaphor. Lace is another handicraft traditionally practiced by women, and seems a fitting comparison to this possible aspect of the postpartum body.

I think there’s probably a better, less generic title out there.

In the second stanza, the movement from L4 to L5 feels abrupt and disjointed to me. I know the weaving together of different strands is intentional, and it mostly worked for me, just not in that particular place.

In general I think your handling of the form is skillful, but I also wonder what might happen to the poem in a different form. The reason I’m thinking this is that the poem itself – its argument, its spirit if you will – is a tapestry of separate though related threads; but the form you have chosen breaks it into two distinct chunks, which to me feels at odds with the spirit of the poem. Just a thought.

[Glenn Wright]

Hi, Chelsea—

You have given your N a cheerful but rather scattered personality. S1L1 and S2L1-4 and 9 discuss the changes in a woman’s body as a result of pregnancy, but the rest of the poem deals with the N not having been given her grandmother’s knowledge of knitting and crocheting (S1L2-9 and S2L7-8), gardening (S1L7-8), and cooking (S2L5-6). The only connection I can see is that the N wishes her grandmother (and mother?) had shared their knowledge with her about all these topics. The poem thus seems to be about how women are expected to discover important knowledge and develop useful skills without the help of their female ancestors. Yves suggests that the discontinuity of the N’s discourse might be meant to imitate the incompleteness of the feminine lore that the N wishes had been passed on to her more completely. Perhaps he’s onto something.

In S1 it seems that that the grandmother has, if fact, passed away, although the pastor might insist that her spirit lives on. It is difficult to imagine how the departed grandmother might “call . . .back” the N (without, maybe, a Ouija board). I would advise dropping the exclamation point in S1L5. It seems like a rim shot for a joke, but the grandmother’s death doesn’t seem like a punch line.

I as also not sure how to interpret “muscle-up her grit.” In S2L9. The “muscle” suggests the reference to diastasis recti, but the “grit” suggests cooking, or maybe just determination. If Yves is right, then perhaps the lack of clarity here is deliberate.

I usually expect Spenserian stanzas to tip their hats in some way to The Faerie Queene or Keats’s “The Eve of St. Agnes.” I expect elements of fantasy and allegory or a strong moral message. Could you connect the form to the content more strikingly?

I like the clever use of rhyme, although S1L8-9 might be tightened up a bit. They use assonance rather than rhyme.

This is a very impressive first post. You show confidence and a distinctive style. I enjoyed it and will look forward to seeing your poem evolve.

Glenn

[Max Goodman]

Welcome.

The meter and rhyme are skillfully handled here and moment-by-moment there's a lot to like.

What does and doesn't get passed down, and who is responsible for seeing that it does is a strong theme. I'm not sure the poem has decided how to treat it. The silly-feeling jokes (the pastor line, even the harassment line) feel like a clash with, for instance, the ending.

I'm not asking for answers to any of these questions; I'm sharing them in case it's helpful to see what I'm confused about:

Is it the speaker's grandmother or mother from whom she wishes she'd learned to crochet and knit?

What's the connection between crocheting/knitting and childbirth? The transition between Ls 2 and 3 suggests the body's postpartum healing is like knitting, which I can roughly see. The transition in the second stanza seems to make a different leap.

How can a person harass with questions withheld?

Does/should not having asked make the speaker feel guilty, does she feel an opportunity missed? Or does she, as the annoyance line suggests, feel the (grand)mother wouldn't have answered anyway?

FWIW.

[Chelsea McClellan]

Hello Yves, Hilary, Glenn, and Max!

Thanks so much for your detailed and thoughtful feedback. I will take it all into consideration while I'm editing! (I'm rather slow on that front.)

I found your observation particularly delightful and funny, Glenn, that I had given the "N a cheerful but rather scattered personality." That sounds rather accurate to the experience I have in my mind, and when I set out to write this particular poem, I did so wondering what would happen if I wrote more like my mind thinks than usual.

Also, you were correct, Glenn, in assuming that I was alluding to the diastasis recti with "muscle-up" and that "grit" would refer to the determination, particularly of a Depression-era grandmother, who had all of these skills. I wonder if we are far enough removed from the great depression that I need to make that aspect clear, and set up the "grit" more than with just the quick mention of garden questions and recipes.

To answer just one of Max's good questions, "Is it the speaker's grandmother or mother from whom she wishes she'd learned to crochet and knit?" I would say both. It was written in response to a prompt to write about a time you did someone else's job, and I guess I was thinking about the skills/love of a thing skipping generations, or having a generation gap--if you will--while trying to be careful not to put too much blame on one person, myself or my mother, for them not getting passed down.

Thanks again, all, for your feedback.

Take care,
Chelsea

[Alex Pepple]

Hello, Chelsea,

Congratulations on this landmark event of your first post at Eratosphere! It's a strong entry and shows you off as a talented poet.

Your Spenserian stanzas are skillfully realized technically. The first stanza weaves together the themes of crochet, knitting, mortality, and missed opportunities for learning quite effectively.

I notice an intentional shift in the second stanza, moving from your personal experience to a broader meditation on generational knowledge with the Diastasis Recti image. The "lace curtains" metaphor is powerful, though I wonder if connecting it more explicitly to textile arts might strengthen the cohesion between stanzas.

The movement from textile arts (crochet/knitting) to "mother's recipes" works well as different expressions of the same theme - knowledge passed between generations. I'm curious about your decision to shift from the personal "I" in the first stanza to the more universal "we" and "daughters" in the second. While this broadens the scope effectively, I wonder if maintaining the personal perspective might create an even stronger emotional impact.

Also, note the typo—only on “r” for “harassed.” Good luck with this as you revise, Chelsea!

Cheers,
…Alex

[Jim Moonan]

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Welcome Chelsea!

I wanted to step in to say you have obvious poetic talent. Your poetic voice is natural and you paint with your words, piecing together an endearing portrait of the grandmother (I think). Spenserian stanza or not, it's good writing. Looking forward to more!

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