Come What May

Come May. Come what may.
The most significant thing today
first Monday in May
my wife six months pregnant with twins
says she’s scared what we’re getting ourselves into.
Like the time I moved into an apartment uptown
I mean way uptown, Bronx uptown, uptown
where I’d never been
bomba echoing in the airshaft
painted the walls banana yellow and moved out the next day.
Lost the deposit.
A few months later moved back to the same neighborhood,
stayed a decade.
I’m not--scared, that is--but they’re not kicking my insides out, either.

Reviews

[Ciara]

It's a familiar feeling. The fear of the unknown.
It does always get easier. Congratulations and good luck!

[JayG]

For you, every line is meaningful because the reality of it lives within the confines of your mind, and is called up anew each time you read. But ask yourself: What’s in it for the reader? Do they really want to be better informed on the events of your life?

Remember, the reader doesn’t know who you are, where you are, or anything meaningful about you, or your history. So when you say, “my wife six months pregnant with twins says she’s scared what we’re getting ourselves into,” What can it mean to the reader? But take it further. Knowing that she’s “scared” is data. But knowing what scared her would provide emotional context. And readers feed on emotion. You’re providing an informational experience when the reader wants you to move them, emotionally—to make then care, and feel, not be better informed on what matters to you. They don’t want to learn that someone cried, THEY want to be made to weep.

So every time you find yourself talking TO the reader about what matters to you, you probably want to stop and rethink how to make it meaningful to the reader.

You might want to download a copy of Mary Oliver’s, A Poetry Handbook. It’s free here, and the lady is brilliant:
https://yes-pdf.com/book/1596

Jay Greenstein
https://jaygreenstein.wordpress.com/category/the-craft-of-writing/the-grumpy-old-writing-coach/