Poefictiontry 2.0
The images for this blog post is of Florence Thompson, culturally dubbed "Migrant Mother", photographed by Dorothea Lange in 1936. A telling of the story can be found here, but basically the larger photograph is described as the "iconic image" of the Great Depression-- It's the image Wikipedia uses to describe the Depression, go figure.
I've spent some time with this representation and it's been fascinating to mull over and would encourage people to read about this photograph and to do the same. My interest is the iconic status this image has received, and that it is of a woman. Although, my writing here has been put on complete halt since exploring some cultural theories... that shit changes you..I... well, it's that whole perspective re: knowledge: the more I learn, the less I know..
Anyway, this poem wasn't written with Thompson in mind, but I thought of her after writing it. I'm still unsure... but for now, I'm leaving it for a few days, at least.:
Mother,
Was crippled
Carrying a knock-off life
In a knock-off bag
Each tooth of its zipper
Whispered, Don't open me!
Open me!
Don't open me!
Open me!
Don't.
Do.
Don't
Do
Its fake leather skin hides
That Mother
Is tw itch ing
In her own
Inside, the faded cotton lining
Is too thin to hold
The secrets that spit
From Mother’s hands, groping
For another f ragme nt
Pressed against rigid hips
Each side of the bag
Has the beginnings of holes
That quietly unthread,
Mother
(Mother)
(Mother)
