NaPoReMo – June 8

June 8th (read and thought about on the date, but not written up till today) is one of those that don’t move me really. I’m finding that the conversational ones, the ones that deal with ordinary occasions with other people, don’t speak to me. Maybe it’s a matter of taste — I’m not often overly moved by conversational poetry (“Island Girl” not withstanding). Or maybe it’s the lack of dramatic monologue that I find unsatisfying. Or maybe it’s that Hudgins attempts to Find the Big Moment in the Ordinary, and tries too hard, or maybe it’s that he ends up telling instead of showing. Anyway, despite the subject matter of this one, which should excite me, because it’s about death (always worth a second look) I’m left cold again.

It’s about a teacher in a night class who pulls aside a student after class and asks him not to tell the other students about how he killed his father. This is the best bit, to my mind:

…………………………………………..“I didn’t shoot him.”
“You didn’t?”
……………………….. “No sir, I hit him with a bat.
See, he was whipping on my mom again
and whipping on me too and then one day 
I just got tired of being whipped on
and I hit him with my uncle’s metal bat
and just kept hitting till he didn’t move.


It ends with the narrator’s angst:

………………………………………I waited
until I heard the outside door clank shut
before I followed. I wanted to be the one
whose leaving let the hall fall into silence —
silence which I have, from talking, learned to love.
But what, when no one loved me, have I done
but talk, talk, talk until I’ve said, like Peter,
the thing I shouldn’t say, or, like tonight,
until I’ve said exactly what I had to say.

which does nothing, really, for me but irritate me, I’m afraid.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s