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Contributor Series 3: Resolution and Resolve, I dropped it again

01.04.10 Posted in Contributor Series 3, today's words by

Contributor Series 3: Resolution and Resolve
I dropped it again
By Rae Spencer

And of course, it broke
The clap and wrack of it
Familiar as any ruin

Strafed across the floor
As when our parents divorced
In that first long arc of loss

When it whined through the air
Like crystal stroked to cry
And crack

Before the later slap and shatter
Of Daddy’s death, the clumsy grief
That fumbles everything fragile

Seamed with glue
Crazed and dull, a grained
Reflective surface

With no memory
Of its molded image, no version
Of itself unscarred, untouched

Only these pieces that fit
Into new shapes, into new lines
Into new hands, which cup and clutch

Though they aren’t strong enough
Aren’t dexterous enough to keep it
Sealed and safe

But each day determined
To gather the scattered bits
And patch it healed, again

Rae Spencer’s poems Lore and What If (a vox poetica Pushcart Prize nominee) appeared at vox poetica in 2009.

7 Responses to “Contributor Series 3: Resolution and Resolve, I dropped it again”

  1. Ray Sharp says:

    These words are sharp — shards — that jar, precussively. Clap and wrack, crack and slap and shatter, cup and clutch and patch. They remind me of the vocabulary of Seamus Heaney. This poem is a lovely example of how sound and rhythm convey meaning. Pitch perfect!

  2. Sarah says:

    Yes, this poem is lovely and strong.

  3. It’s all been said. Except the wonderful imagery.

  4. Jeanette Gallagher says:

    Rae, after not guessing or knowing on facebook what you meant by “it” – I think I ‘get it’. I love the determination to heal the broken pieces; the strength of hope and healing, even though …

  5. Rae says:

    Thank you all for your generous comments. I love vox poetica!

  6. vox poetica loves you too Rae!

  7. Jean says:


    The power of your words: clap, wrack, ruin, slap, shatter, smash, clang against each other like crockery in a dropped cardboard box.

    Then, the softer words: fumbles, fragil, cup, clutch, sealed and safe, and healed, words which anneal, if not heal, draw a portrait of damage that reconsiles, but sometimes misaligned.

    Your poem, as always is beyond my powers of adulation. Thank you so much.

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