A Matter of Taste

I’ve been reading The Glimmering Room by poet Cynthia Cruz.  It took reading several of the poems until she clicked with me, but now that she has I’m really enjoying her work.  This is the poem that finally resonated with me and opened me up to the rest of the book.


Beautiful and sad Sarah, girl

Ruler of the underworld. Strange

Saint of the otherworldly low

Weight. In mint panties and dreamed

Halo, waiting in the Arctic

Hallway for the morning weigh-in

With the rest of us.

None of us fit

For marriage, or for

Anything else,

For that matter. All of us dead

Or else hid in some mother’s suburb,

Somewhere. Expert only at

Long-distance running.

Wearing the war paint of

Women stunted

In preadolescence: skater-boy haircuts

And glitter-blue nail polish, holding

Care Bears and My Little

Ponies, wearing paper crowns.

(pp 35-36)

The most striking thing for me is the juxtaposition of the dark imagery with the child/girlish imagery.  Maybe dark isn’t the right word for it.  Perhaps a better way to say it is the harsh vs. the innocent imagery.  There’s also the clinical feel of the first three couplets, the “Arctic/Hallway,” that brings back every time I’ve ever had to be in a hospital.  Then there’s the line “None of us fit/For marriage/Or for/Anything else/For that matter.”  Marriage is the primary thing they’re unfit for, the most important thing they’re unfit for, and then almost as an afterthought, “oh yeah, we weren’t really good for anything else, either.”  If you haven’t read this book yet, you should.  Read it in your head, and then read it to the empty room.  Chew the words and listen to how you spit them out.  You’ll be glad you did.

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