Finding new form
Alison Chisholm explores a poem that recycles material from a writer’s previous short story
Alison Chisholm
When you have the opportunity to discuss a poem with its creator, one of the most interesting questions to ask is how the poem came to be written. While there may be a touch of voyeurism in wanting to know the answer, it’s a healthy nosiness. You can both appreciate the poem more for knowing something of its genesis, and learn something beneficial to yourself by understanding another route a poem can take from head to page.
STAIRCASES
God didn’t ordain I’d clean houses for a living.
He had a hand in it, though. I work well,
methodically moving from room to room:
from floors to shelving and covings.
Always that order. I’ve a strong sense of order,
instilled in me since convent school,
where obedience ruled us,
the nuns who taught us, the children in turn.
Method, acceptance, sacrifice, achievement.
These weren’t open to dispute. Not at all.
I tackle housework as I tackled exams and religion;
one step at a time,
calmly progressing from basement to attic,