January 11, 2011

Fibonacci Poetry365.10 January 10

In a break from my usual methods, I'm publishing this piece in draft form because I must put in the oven the turkey I should have put there two hours ago.  So I may have miscounted, and I may have gone smarmy or sickly sweet, or I may have left out words or even (please, God, no) misspelled something.  I shall return.


January 10

1   My/
1   younger/
2   daughter's birthday./
3.  She tells me/
5   she's thirty-eight years old.  I/
8   have to do the math because it seems/
13  unlikely.
             I won't have it, my girls so quickly women and I so/
21  quickly old. I inform her older sister that hereinout she will be perpetually forty and her sister perpetually thirty-seven.  Those are/
34   trustworthy numbers, adult and yet youthful.  Her sister, texting me, scoffs:  "If I have to be in my forties, so does Jennifer," suggesting that sisterhood trumps motherhood.
               My first view of her:  the obstetrician/
55  and I miscommunicated; and I missed her birth.  It was half an hour later when I opened my eyes to see beside the bed, in a clear plastic layette, an uncovered, naked baby girl, mouth wide open in a silent bellow, feet and hands waving madly, outraged and alone.We had spent many late nights
89  together, this girl and I, back in the day before ultrasound. A mystery baby.  I referred to her as Waldo Ann for fun, and before she was born I'd lie on my side, pull the curtain back with my left hand and observe the stars, as she rocked and rolled and hiccuped contentedly. Later I would call to her ("Jennnnniferrrrr!) to see with me every brilliant sunset. She's done the same with her sons since they were toddlers.  Sometimes she calls me, excitedly, to describe her personal sky.
                                                            by Mary Cartledgehayes

4 comments:

rusvw said...

Why do I think Diana Hume George would find this one especially intriguing and magical? This piece needs to be read aloud. Have you considered posting audio files of you reading these poems?

Mary said...

Rus -- Audio files -- what a great idea. I don't actually know how to do that. Interesting that you thought of Diana with this poem. Magical, you say. Hmmm. I'll take it. Because thinking back if became so.

Jenn said...

This is my new favorite post!

Love,
Waldo Ann

Mary said...

Oh my word. I laughed out loud when I saw your signature. Did you know that about yourself? I must call Mary Flowers, because she'll laugh as thoroughly as I did. It's amazing the things we don't tell our children because we assume they know. After all, YOU WERE THERE for all the Waldo Ann conversations.