Making A Fist Poem
The language that appears in the poem Faire un fist? 3
This is a poem
For the first time on the highway north of Tampico,
I think life is too far away for me.
Desert ads and hey.
I'm seven years old i'm in the car
Watt's palms are moving in disgusting patterns on the front of the glass.
My stomach felt like an open melon on my skin.
Did you know that you will?
I begged my mother.
We were gone.
He replied with strange conviction:
When you can no longer press your fists.
Years later, I smile when I think of this journey.
We have to cross the border separately.
Formed by our irresponsible misfortunes.
I didn't do it, I'm still alive.
I'm still in the back seat behind all my questions.
Squeeze and open with small hands.
There is not much representation in this poem - Naomi Shehab Ni deliberately avoids good writing because she wants you to find her poetry harsh and realistic.
I'm still in the back seat behind all my questions.
It has a subtle metapress: the girl is not really behind the question, she is just thinking about the question.
My stomach felt like an open melon on my skin.
This is another (and probably more) Metapr. The girl's stomach wasn't really a melon that had been opened, the girl's stomach was aching.
