Improv 1, Week 15

The first improv for this week come's from Briditte Byrd's collection, Fence Above the Sea. It is entitled, "(a beginning)."


And then there is another day

Everything is about waiting. A phone rings and it is not always a mistake.
A chest fills with requiem and it is not his not it is not. When there
is something to say the ants find the sun on a mosaic floor. A strange
fragrance. They never see any light. I slip and slip under the sheets and
the daughter sleeps. That her face is not the father’s is not a sign. It is
a coincidence always that a daughter’s face is a father’s and often a blue
one. At least we tried. In the bed there is a sea and it is cold. But we lost it.
Why no sound. Sisters ride in a car with the daughter’s blue flower and it
is a face wrapped in gauze. His always there. It is hard to turn away from
moving water. A house is not an escape. You smiled and you smiled with
me. The father looked at her and he is not a breath there is not a breath
There is only daughter.


In Byrd's piece there appears to be several familial characters, most of which are feminine. There are sisters, a daughter, and the speaker who appears to either be a reflection of the daughter, one of the sisters, or perhaps even the wife of the 'father.' While the speaker's role is ambiguous, her language dictates a type of feminimity, "I slip and slip under the sheets and the daughter sleeps" (4-5). Here, for example, one could read the line as if the speaker has become the daughter, just for a moment.

I wanted to see where my language would take me if I incorporated several different relations of a family into my piece as well. My characters, however, are a bit more on the masculine side. I have a brother to a sister, a son to an uncle, and the speaker (who could be seen as a reflection of the sister). So, my piece consists of ideally at least one female (in two different roles) and three males. By the time I finished the poem ece, all of the relationships seemed to embody some element of abusive love. This greatly contrasts with the peaceful nature of family in Byrd's piece.



(absent end)

And then, there was no tomorrow.

Nothing is about withstanding. A bed creaks and it always smiles.
A wrist overflows with abstinence and it is not hers if it is his. When
Something tries to bleed the starfish cry nebulas on crystalline ceiling. An enticing taste. They always hear twenty tongues. He turns or turns over the wheel and the sister mourns. That her hair stemmed from her brother is an epiphany. It is never uncertain that a sister’s tendrils is a brother’s goatee and never red. Until they slept. At the shore lies a whale and it is dead. But they found it. Where are the notes. Sons jump on the deck with Uncle’s gangrene razor and it is a knee making love. She never leaves. It is hard to always forget the call of a mosquito. A tree is steadfast. I cried and I cried with the brother. She worshipped him and he was not there, there is never there. There is only me.