Cocktail Hour
poetry by
alecia
17 September 2001
26 comments
|
 |
Skein Home
Author's Works
View without comments
|
|
 |
|
I.
|
|
|
|
 |
|
4 o’clock tolled with a sing-song beckoning
|
|
|
in my grandfather’s tenor: “cocktail hour”
|
|
|
and I’d roll my eyes at Lauren, usually halfway
|
|
|
sprice:
does Lauren need explanation/description? It's not clear from the poem alone that she's your sister, and underage at the time, though you can kinda pick that up from the Shirley Temples bit. |
| Add comment |
|
|
through gin-rummy, but we’d go
|
|
|
heather:
Is "gin-rummy" your choice because its accurate to your family? or because you're talking about liquor to begin with? Either way, it's a nice choice -- the adults got the real stuff and you got the card game. |
|
sprice:
Agreed. I really liked that line, same reasons. |
| Add comment |
|
|
indulge grandfather and his crushed ice
|
|
|
|
 |
|
already chinked in sweaty glasses. I knew
|
|
|
samira:
In general, I really like the images in this stanza, this line in particular. "Chinked" and "sweaty" are great words. |
|
cgroom:
I agree that "sweaty" is a great word, but for some reason "sweaty" isn't in keeping with the rest of this poem. |
|
sprice:
"dewy"? 'sweaty' is perhaps more in keeping with the poem. or is it? |
|
alecia:
hmm. definitely something to consider. i get kinda stuck on 'sweaty' too. how's about 'slick'? picks up the 'k' sound, could be interpreted as either wet-slick or glass-slick... other ideas? |
|
samira:
What about "foggy?" The "g" has the same hard sound as the "k." |
| Add comment |
|
|
Manhattans from gimlets from martinis
|
|
|
by the garnish, plotted carefully whom to tail
|
|
|
in hope of those sweet spiked cherries.
|
|
|
Tall Shirley Temples for us, extra grenadine if
|
|
|
|
 |
|
we’d been extra-good. Grandma Gene drank
|
|
|
heather:
the two "extra"s are good. |
|
sprice:
Hee. I wonder how many people get introduced to mixed drinks through shirey temples... I first had a shirley temple on a trip with my grandparents, who would have a glass of wine with dinner. Also to wonder-- how much my current taste for fruity doesn't-taste-like-alcohol drinks comes from there. |
| Add comment |
|
|
martinis and hoarded olives on her swizzler,
|
|
|
crowded at least four up to the handle,
|
|
|
then sucked them voraciously. I never understood.
|
|
|
They made my mouth curl back on itself.
|
|
|
|
 |
|
II.
|
|
|
|
 |
|
Tastes change, I suppose. I learned to eat olives at 22,
|
|
|
for a boy who swore by martinis, the same year my grandmother
|
|
|
heather:
Your grandparents are much more compelling characters in this poem than "the boy." If you intend him to be flat in comparison, you might make that even more obvious. Or cut him entirely. Or flesh him out so that he seems significant enough to be part of the memory too. |
| Add comment |
|
|
|
 |
|
stopped drinking because of her chemo. I don’t like them
|
|
|
sprice:
'them' at the end of this line itches for me, almost applies to boy-and-grandparents. Not much, though, I suppose. |
|
samira:
Hm.. In general, this poem seems more prosey than most of your work, the sentence ending "because of her chemo," in particular. It seems a bit clunky. Shorter sentences might help. See if you can strip away some clauses to make the language more powerful? I might develop the idea of cancer a bit more as well. While Grandma Gene is very nicely fleshed out, I feel a bit like Heather's comments about the boy also apply to Grandma Gene's chemo and death. There is a certain beauty to the sparseness, so I wouldn't belabor the point, but I would look for a way too make the image of death as vivid as the image of her olives. |
|
samira:
N.B. Not the part of Heather's comment about maybe cutting it, of course. |
|
sprice:
curious: what does "N.B." mean? |
|
alecia:
N.B.= nota bene, Latin for "note well." Hrm. That might be 'note.' Not sure. But anyway, that's what it means. :) |
| Add comment |
|
|
unless they’re vodkasoaked, saltsharp, and cold.
|
|
|
heather:
I really like "vodkasoaked" and "saltsharp" as one word. |
|
sprice:
There's a term for that, isn't there? Heather, you were in Survey I also... what's the term for those combinations: swan-road, for instance? |
|
heather:
kennings, I think. |
|
sprice:
Heather-- that sounds right, even though it confuses me by what I thought the etymology of 'ken' was. So I looked it up on m-w.com. "Kenning" in this sense comes straight from the Old Norse "kenna", while "ken" in the sense that I was thinking of, to perceive, comes from "kenna" as well, but by way of middle and old English, where it picked up some other nuances. Interestingly, it's related to "can" as in "I can do that" through knowing-- perception means knowing something, if you know something, you can do/comprehend it. Are these still called 'kennings' in current/contemporary poetry? |
| Add comment |
|
|
|
 |
|
My grandmother died in the spring, and my boy moved on
|
|
|
to other things. When I hold a long-stemmed, sharp-edged glass,
|
|
|
|
 |
|
I think of them.
|
|
|
cgroom:
It feels like there's a stronger synthesis between martinis, the boy, and the grandmother than simply thinking of them. Either expand or reduce this stanza -- I think expand, to offer a line or two more of details and sharpness. |
| Add comment |
|
|
|
 |
|
III.
|
|
|
|
 |
|
4 o’clock still marks cocktail hour; grandfather
|
|
|
calls sedately now. With the adults, I order a vodka martini,
|
|
|
extra olives. Glances meet; I silently agree to halve
|
|
|
it with Lauren in another room. I only offer
|
|
|
|
 |
|
a single olive, though. I suck the rest
|
|
|
one by one
|
|
|
in honor of my grandmother.
|
|
|
|
|
heather:
observation: this piece is not nearly as tight as what you usually write, like you haven't had the heart to slim it down yet. Eventually, it might be even more powerful if you did. |
|
sprice:
Alecia, I've just found out that not everyone was on the "members" e-mail list when I suggested that folks put into the endnotes of a piece their hopes for the kind of response. Is this a new poem that you're working on, or an old one that we haven't seen yet? |
|
alecia:
It's a poem I wrote this past winter/spring and haven't showed too many people yet. It's a departure from my usual style, I know, and as Samira notes above, more prosy, more narrative. Presently, I'm thinking about some of the suggestions posted here... I'll throw some revisions around soon. Hey code-type-people, any way to see the old juxtaposed with the new? |
|
samira:
Alecia, I wanted to add that, when I wrote my comment, I was trying hard to look at this as a poem and not to think about it as an elegy for a woman that you loved and that I really enjoyed. II think that making it a better poem will make it a better elegy, but that I am also very impressed by your willingness to write about and offer up for sharing something this personal. |
|
sprice:
Alecia-- it would be great to be able to juxtapose the old with the new, and that's in the plans, but it takes a *lot* of thinking/working/doing, so it'll be a while. Chuck's just installed "CVS", which is a 'version tracker' program that can let you view old versions of documents, but currently that only works for the skein engine itself, I believe. Eventually, it would be nice to have it track the works themselves and allow users to work with it through some sort of web interface. But it will be a while. |
| Add comment |
|
|
Content © copyright 2001 by Alecia Marie Magnifico. All rights reserved.