Poem: Red Hiding Hood

Hidden in the small flame
I will remember

My father is looking for your father
They know they drove nails through everyone’s

Words, not my own

Hidden in the small flame
I called

Whore mark
Hair Fragrance
Dry feet
If you remember

I admire you
I was very small

When it comes to me
Press your hands on the ground

I accept night
You must remember

These low, these tears are for you
Hidden in the small flame

Written in response to Big Tent Poetry’s Monday Prompt for 21 March 2011, though I used Google Translate.
Big Tent Poetry

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11 comments for “Poem: Red Hiding Hood

  1. March 25, 2011 at 10:07 pm

    Very dreamlike interpretation… this will have to get a few more reads to put all the pieces together, I think. “When it comes to me / Press your hands on the ground” = really cool.

  2. Donna vorreyer
    March 25, 2011 at 11:23 pm

    It would be interesting to see e original to see how the translator changed the language,

    • ekswitaj
      March 26, 2011 at 1:34 pm

      It’s actually a poem from my first book, but the truth is that I sort of sculpted this out of the translation.

  3. March 26, 2011 at 1:10 am

    I really liked this…it is mysterious and the narrator seems to be playing a little hide and seek with memories

  4. March 26, 2011 at 3:23 am

    Mystical and magical. I love the feeling of quasipower.

  5. March 26, 2011 at 5:32 pm

    I’d like to see the original, too. Be nice to know where the nails in hands, dry feet, hands on the ground all come from. They don’t seem accidental the way some things you get from generators do.

    (I have a batch of riffs on riding hood. She’s useful)(do you realize that there is a line in your tags that reads “sexual assault shaving cream”?)

    • ekswitaj
      March 26, 2011 at 7:35 pm

      Well, I was using a translator, and the original poem deals with Crucifixion (this title came later).

      The line of tags is an unfortunate result of alphabetized phrases I’m afraid.

  6. March 26, 2011 at 5:37 pm

    Reading your poem always make my day!

    Here is mine:

  7. March 26, 2011 at 6:19 pm

    The use of the repeated phrase binding the sections together gives this inevitably mysterious poem a kind of lyrical authority. It’s haunting and disturbing in a pleasing way!

  8. March 26, 2011 at 10:23 pm

    Indeed a haunting piece.
    Well written, Elizabeth.


  9. March 28, 2011 at 3:14 am

    Just enough to feel I understood and little enough I could create my own story with your images. I liked this.

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