My first gasp was that it was a kind of response to Cally's own songs to childhood in the form of her granddaughter. But that is gossip gleaned by the hearsay of my mind from my tiny knowledge (that is: only, Cally) of your friends. It does not matter, really; the poem is a wonderful script for every reader to cast. I will be back when words to speak about this occur to me. It is a strange lexicon we have: "strong" poems, "successes". As if the poems were sweating wrestlers sporting for victory in an Athenian crater. It certainly is a "success" in that it says things at such a pitch and with such a resonance that I am caught up in its vortex: listening.
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