Molly Sutton Kiefer
Adorn
*
In the beginning were my mother’s hands.
There were narrow foothills, her blue veins
attending, with soapy notice, the vaults
of my skin. Her long fingers were graceful,
would pin diapers with grace, would swoop
as she knit small sweaters for us to wear.
She’d rub my flannel-coated back
every night-cry, carry a bowl of peppermint stick
for fevers. She taught us to dress: how to loop
rabbit-eared laces, zipper into winter. She made
us a yellow-haired clown doll, braided in tight, ribboned,
and one of each fastening: a button, a snap, a strap.
*
She taught me to knit, leaning into the lamplight,
pulling at long wooly tangles, again the dip, and around,
the jab of bamboo tip and quietly, yes, yes--
that’s it, the resistance of lifting the whole project
into her lap, fixing the foibles, and showing me
the wax of lines, the pucker of purl and over.
*
Her own father called her Crisco-fat-in-a-can,
a whole flotilla of names she'd carry to bed with her.
I knew this but still couldn't forgive
her when she'd point out a zit,
my sweaters too boxy, the colors I chose
too gray, too landscaped, of mountains and riverbeds--
or the way my round-toed shoes
would make me look fatter than I am.
Did she lower her voice on those last
three words, or did I imagine them?
*
My hands have come between my legs,
catching urine. I’ve watched cups on the windowsill,
the failed ones, then tucked away,
quietly closing the door. I keep still,
keep my hands from shaking (no, no), by knitting
a blanket fat with winter, made from thistle
and grasses with silver feathers. I’ve wanted you so long,
to do it differently, to keep only the best of it all.
Molly Sutton Kiefer is the author of the hybrid essay Nestuary (Ricochet Editions, 2014) and the poetry chapbooks The Recent History of Middle Sand Lake (Astounding Beauty Ruffian Press, 2010) and City of Bears (dancing girl press, 2013). Her work has appeared in The Collagist, Harpur Palate, Women’s Studies Quarterly, WomenArts Quarterly, Berkeley Poetry Review, you are here, Gulf Stream, Cold Mountain Review, Southampton Review, and Permafrost, among others. She is a founding editor of Tinderbox Poetry Journal, is a member of the Caldera Poetry Collective, serves as poetry editor to Midway Journal, reviews for PANK, and runs Balancing the Tide: Motherhood and the Arts | An Interview Project. More can be found at mollysuttonkiefer.com
Return to September 2014 Edition
*
In the beginning were my mother’s hands.
There were narrow foothills, her blue veins
attending, with soapy notice, the vaults
of my skin. Her long fingers were graceful,
would pin diapers with grace, would swoop
as she knit small sweaters for us to wear.
She’d rub my flannel-coated back
every night-cry, carry a bowl of peppermint stick
for fevers. She taught us to dress: how to loop
rabbit-eared laces, zipper into winter. She made
us a yellow-haired clown doll, braided in tight, ribboned,
and one of each fastening: a button, a snap, a strap.
*
She taught me to knit, leaning into the lamplight,
pulling at long wooly tangles, again the dip, and around,
the jab of bamboo tip and quietly, yes, yes--
that’s it, the resistance of lifting the whole project
into her lap, fixing the foibles, and showing me
the wax of lines, the pucker of purl and over.
*
Her own father called her Crisco-fat-in-a-can,
a whole flotilla of names she'd carry to bed with her.
I knew this but still couldn't forgive
her when she'd point out a zit,
my sweaters too boxy, the colors I chose
too gray, too landscaped, of mountains and riverbeds--
or the way my round-toed shoes
would make me look fatter than I am.
Did she lower her voice on those last
three words, or did I imagine them?
*
My hands have come between my legs,
catching urine. I’ve watched cups on the windowsill,
the failed ones, then tucked away,
quietly closing the door. I keep still,
keep my hands from shaking (no, no), by knitting
a blanket fat with winter, made from thistle
and grasses with silver feathers. I’ve wanted you so long,
to do it differently, to keep only the best of it all.
Molly Sutton Kiefer is the author of the hybrid essay Nestuary (Ricochet Editions, 2014) and the poetry chapbooks The Recent History of Middle Sand Lake (Astounding Beauty Ruffian Press, 2010) and City of Bears (dancing girl press, 2013). Her work has appeared in The Collagist, Harpur Palate, Women’s Studies Quarterly, WomenArts Quarterly, Berkeley Poetry Review, you are here, Gulf Stream, Cold Mountain Review, Southampton Review, and Permafrost, among others. She is a founding editor of Tinderbox Poetry Journal, is a member of the Caldera Poetry Collective, serves as poetry editor to Midway Journal, reviews for PANK, and runs Balancing the Tide: Motherhood and the Arts | An Interview Project. More can be found at mollysuttonkiefer.com
Return to September 2014 Edition