The Gift
Thinking she was the gift
they began to package it early.
They waxed its smile
they lowered its eyes
they tuned its ears to the telephone
they curled its hair
they straightened its teeth
they taught it to bury its wishbone
they poured honey down its throat
they made it say yes yes and yes
they sat on its thumbs.
That box has my name on it,
said the man. It's for me.
And they were not surprised.
While they blew kisses and winked
he took it home. He put it on a table
where his friends could examine it
saying dance saying faster.
He plunged its tunnels
he burned his name deeper.
Later he put it on a platform
under the lights
saying push saying harder
saying just what I wanted
you've given me a son.
Commentary
I came across this poem in one of my college textbooks and was immediately captivated. I appreciate the poems, like this one, that must be read over and over before they are understood on the surface alone, and must be read and analyzed and pored over to be truly understood.
This is a beautiful, haunting, and chilling poem that looks at the cliche of the pretty, submissive, and simple-minded girl and ably gives that cliche depth.
— Erin
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From the Wondering Minstrels mailing list, 1999–2008.
Suresh Ramasubramanian · 30 August 2000
Martin Julian DeMello [Thu, Aug 31, 2000 at 08:00:15AM -0500]:
Funny how close this comes to real life … the image of a girl as a doll - a mindless playtoy really struck me (yup - barbie dolls are stereotyped dumb blondes but this is beside the point <g>)
Again … doll == girl.
Marriage = The guy acquires a new toy.
Phew … pregnancy and childbirth reduced to this - drives home the point.
No, there are some complexities - and lots of beauty - but this doesn’t seem anywhere near the layer-within-layer mysticism of Blake.
make that ‘a girl trained to be submissive and simple minded’. You force someone into a mold, it’s not very easy to break that mold - and such stereotypes tend to self-perpetuate.