I am from clothespins,

From Clorox and carbon-tetrachloride.

I am from the dirt under the back porch.

(Black, glistening

it tasted like beets.)

I am from the forsythia bush,

the Dutch elm

whose long gone limbs I remember

as if they were my own.

 

I am from fudge and eyeglasses,

        from Imogene and Alafair.

I’m from the know-it-alls

       and the pass-it-ons,

from perk up and pipe down.

I’m from He restoreth my soul

       with a cottonball lamb

      and ten verses I can say myself.

 

I’m from Artemus and Billie’s Branch,

fried corn and strong coffee.

From the finger my grandfather lost

      to the auger

the eye my father shut to keep his sight.

Under the bed was a dress box

spilling old pictures,

a sift of lost faces

to drift beneath my dreams.

I am from those moments –

snapped before I budded –

leaf-fall from the family tree.

 

Your Assignment

 

1. Read the poem twice.  Look for patterns: repeated phrases, types of imagery and metaphors, tone.

 

2. Generate ideas from your life: in your house, in your yard, in your neighborhood, memorable relatives’ names, foods from special family events, classic sayings in your family, the place you keep your memories.  You may think of other categories as well.

 

3. Generate a new hook to take the place of Lyon’s I am from.

 

4. Draft your own “Where I’m From” poem,  have it peer read, revise it, prepare it in FC form, decorate it for hanging in our room, and be prepared to present it.