Friday, 15 May 2015


Yesterday I found this in my mailbox, a surprise I wasn't ready to receive. I just wanted to share it with you. It is called Fable by Nicole Callihan.
It's the first poem I read from her and I like: "and though mother wasn’t like other mothers, I was like other girls trapped and lonely and painting pictures in the stars."  I'm curious if you like it as well.

Our paper house sat
on the banks of the red river

and though mother
wasn’t like other mothers

I was like other girls
trapped and lonely

and painting pictures
in the stars. I was slick

with old birth or early longing,
already halfway between

who I wanted to be and who I was.
Our floors were made of flame

but there was no wind
so we were as safe as anyone.

When spring came,
I walked for a very long time

up I-35, and at the end of the road,
I found a boy who placed earphones

onto my head and pumped opera
into my body. I can feel it still.

Underneath that treeless sky,
I was as changed as I would ever be.

Not even mother noticed.
Nicole Callihan


  1. Sad but hopeful at the same time...haven't quite figured that out. Thanks for sharing another thought provoking poem Han.

    Hugs and blessings...Cat

    1. Yes, it has different layers. I like that as well.

      Thank you for your comment,

  2. I-35 is quite a long interstate highway in the United States. I am now wondering what part of it the poet is referring to. When I lived in Minnesota, I often took I-35. The poet teaches in Brooklyn, so she must have lived in or travelled to the midwest at some stage, I'm guessing.

    Thanks for sharing this poem, Han. It is quite an interpretative poem for me, which is a great sign if I am still pondering over it.

    1. Thank you for your addition to the I-35. I didn't know of course. I'm glad you like it as well.


  3. So many truths in a single girl life.

    I like it. Thank you for sharing.

    1. So glad you like it, Mona Lisa. Thank you for your comment.



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