Okay, as usual, I haven't prepared anything specific for today. Instead, I'm writing this on the heels of last night's workshop where I was first introduced to this poem.
The poem in question is Training by Diannely Antigua. I will say right off the bad that there are some very intense interpretations that I'm not going to address too deeply as I don't want to trigger anybody.
Anyway, the poem describes the speaker and another person training a new puppy. It's unclear who the other person is and I think that's quite effective. I assumed it was a romantic partner. However, others thought it was maybe a father. Either way, the speaker describes taking stones out of the dog's mouth and clearing up it's mess, strapping a life jacket to her so she could go swimming.
All of these things without question, just because the speaker and the other person just because they love the puppy, as shown in the line of 'a kindness / so pure and gentle as that, as a pat on the head / for doing nothing but existing.'
This all culminates in the last line as the speaker has to remove the stones from her own body in contrast to her removing the stones from the dog's mouth.
There's also an interesting section: 'Here, the world is perpetual March, / and we love a dog as if that’s the only thing we can do, as if / death cannot touch this slice of New England, the trees / growing a canopy of shade just for us.' There was some debate on the meaning of this. Is it referencing the start of the pandemic? Does it mean spring? I'm not familiar with the New England climate but some people suggested March in New England is still cold and wintery. Personally, I see a lot of protection in this passage as if the couple are protecting the puppy from the world.
So, what's the prompt? I invite you to think about a time you've been a caretaker. It could be for a person or an animal or a plant. Any time you felt responsible for another thing. And write about that experience.
I can't wait to see what you come up with!
You
The green air that I breathe
Limitless supply of endless CO2
I tend your roots
As you also tend mine
I tend your bark
As you also tend mine
I feed you with fresh soil
and you feed me with mine
My lungs at full capacity
Like air balloons floating in a blue sky.
If ever there was a drought
I'd give you all the water that is mine to give
If ever there was a famine
I'd give you all the food that I could spare
If ever there was destruction
I would clean up the mess
and rebuild from what was left.
This is what a gardener does
Take care of our little saplings
Breathing life into them
as they breathe life back into us
Watching them grow
Strong
A family tree extending beyond measure.
Author Note: This poem is as raw as it gets. Unedited and on the fly.