Listen to the poem here.
You spoon-fed me love and expectations.
Desperate to meet them,
I molded my flesh and broke my bones,
Sprinkled powder sugar like glitter over my words,
They taste sweeter going down your throat.
My body was dough and
I kneaded myself to perfection.
Bake at 350 for 35 minutes.
I am the shape of the woman
That brings you the most joy.
Once, or twice, I changed the recipe,
A tablespoon more of the savory flavor
Of independence
Beaten, until it formed the peaks and curves
Of my body.
Lips puckered, you murmured,
You did not like the taste
I left on your tongue.
Change is not a flavor in your vocabulary
But you ought to make it one.
When writing this poem, a lot of the lines I thought of were separate and I'm not sure all of them belong in one poem, maybe they don't keep the topic as focused. In my feedback, I would like to hear how you felt about the flow of the poem, if there were any lines you felt didn't fit or made you stumble. I would also like to know if you thought they all fit together, or if some stray from the meaning you are interpreting. Anything else you have to offer me is welcome! Thank you in advance!
Hi Taylor! I like how you use this extended metaphor without it becoming too cheesy. You put an interesting angle on it, and I think that makes it work.
As for lines, honestly the first one through me off a bit. The rest of the poem seems to be about baking/cooking or making a recipe. But the first line sets me up to think its going to be about feeding and nurturing. I might start with a line about a recipe or something, and maybe tasting instead of spoon feeding.
I love the last line! I think I would like to see what IS in the addressee's vocabulary, too, though--maybe earlier in the poem--because that's the title. Nice work!