This short poem by Joyce Freedman starts as a rollicking read. But the strain on the tangled threads of family relationships builds then snaps. It is a powerful poem. Poempig thinks every teenager who has been relentlessly criticised by their father should read this poem. It frees the spirit and therefore belongs in the class of Jailbreak Prose.
1.
My father said, in my teenage years
My finest feature was tiny ears.
My spirit soared; I didn’t know
Everyone’s ears continue to grow.
He thought I’d be a tad more neat
If less of me comprised my feet.
My eyes, he thought, were commonplace
Much better, though, than my acned face.
2.
My ears are huge, my feet are spread
My eyes are weak—and my father’s dead.
Joyce Freedman
This poem first appeared in Quadrant Magazine: #mce_temp_url#
Clip Pic Amy Heague: #mce_temp_url#