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God mom, I love you.
You don't make me smile.
I sometimes forget your eyes
For the arm on a chair
or the number of lights
through a window
While you skate behind me
focused on my neck with
some alien, gooey love.
Everywhere's pink and red,
Pink and red, in class: it's
almost Valentine's
And the sticky kids are
dragging markers through
glitter-glue (they'll ruin
the tip, the clean tip)
to write about love like
a loud, crowded thing.
It sounds horrible: guts
filled with insects and
cheeks tingling up
Into tight lips and
wet, messy kisses (they'll
ruin the space, the
clean space). Mom,
They don't know my
quiet, tender string:
I love you like an
empty field, like a light
so dim it's half-shade,
Like a word that tastes
sweeter every time it comes
(like a touch-post, a motion)
I know your love is
Sticky, mom. But I care
for it anyway.
I didn't like hearts,
so I made a brown square.
Happy Valentine's Day.
I don't have autism, nor have I been much around it – but on the brief occasions that I have been, I've been struck by the honesty and … hyper-humanity, I guess I'd put it … of the condition. I mean “condition” here the same way I mean “left-handed” (which I am) or any number of other human states. It is a stigmatic over-simplification to look at autism as merely a trial or defect or weakness: it is an alternate tuning, an acquired reaction against the stimulative bombardment of modern life.
ReplyDeleteAutism is not bereft of insight, or awareness, or love – but it approaches them on a different frequency. To bridge a relationship is – again, it seems from my distance – a challenge of empathy on both ends, but one well worth the endeavor. Here's to love.
*Thanks Theresa Haberkorn (butterfly stomach), numerous anonymous children (Valentine's craft), and Krista (a muse in nature) most especially for making this collage full.
I love this poem. I have both a cousin and a grandpa that have autism, and I have always been intrigued by their interesting approach towards love. While it may seem nonexistent on the outside, there really is a hint of appreciation and refined love on the inside. People with autism are so in tune with the details of their surroundings, and you did a spectacular job interspersing the comments on love with the "distractions" they face, or the little things that bother them: (they'll ruin the tip, the clean tip). This poem paints the love of autistic people as complex, as his love is like that of objects he has noticed (like a lit so dim it's half shade), using similes to highlight the unique way that autistic individuals think.
ReplyDeleteM. Fitzgerald
Thanks, MF. My friend's boyfriend is actually wrapping up a documentary right now called "Autism in Love." They've got interviews with Temple Grandin and other notables on the subject of how they perceive love ...
ReplyDelete(they've got a page on Facebook - if you're interested, check it out, yeah?)
I really like how you captured a mother's love from a seemingly childish perspective in the beginning of the poem. This poem reminds me of another one I read a while ago and unfortunately cannot remember the name, but it describes the difference between a child's love for his or her parents and how it is very different from parents' love for their child. When I read the lines "While you skate behind me / focused on my neck with / some alien, gooey love" and again when you wrote "wet, messy kisses", I could imagine a mother giving her son a huge kiss on the cheek and the son getting all embarrassed and grossed out. The words "alien" and "gooey" seem to be coming from a young and naive speaker. But when you describe the love as "sticky" does that mean you/the speaker does not fully understand the mother's love, thinking of it sort of as messy or as something that can never be gotten rid of or unstuck? I also thought the similes you used to compare the way the speaker loves his mother to be interesting. For example, comparing his love to an empty field or dim light that generally have negative connotations, yet weirdly seem to be sweet and innocent in this poem. I also love the ending of the poem. It seems random but it makes sense at the same time and is really sweet. I have a cousin who is Autistic and she is one of the brightest people I know. She has the biggest heart and an incredibly impressive memory for random facts. The tone of this poem is really heartwarming, and the attention to detail gives it a cool twist.
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