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Terrapin Architecture



                     In My Grandmother's Gait


                     In the vast mysterious space of the museum,
                     walls far apart and ceilings high,
                     we walk and walk
                     and stop --
                     to admire, lament, wonder, and laugh:
                     lipstick tank melted drumset giant pocket knife
                     petrified typewriter overgrown meatball on fork
                     soft drooping plasticated fan: *

                     all blending together now
                     but still there.

                     Falling behind
                     I watch my mother with her's
                     and see it is the latter setting the pace,
                     bold and quick and happy
                     four legs clipping air
                     with feet
                     drumming a muted cadence on the floor --
                     a steady march to the next room.

                     Her voice a raspy smoothness
                     offering her daughter artists
                     I still don't know
                     her silvered straight hair
                     cutting a swath
                     for me to follow.

                     (Art -- larger than life -- upstaged.)

                     Inextricable from her movement
                     I see myself getting bigger
                     and I am not as lost
                     in the vast cool spaces
                     anymore.


* refers to 1995 Claes Oldenburg sculpture exhibit at
the National Gallery in Washington, D.C.




Graphically intense version button © Nick Pici, all rights reserved
 appears here by permission


left Pici (click here) right Pici (click here)


Author Notes

           Written for my grandmother on her 75th birthday, "In My Grandmother's Gait" pays tribute to the energy and vitality of this, my only living grandparent. But it also deals with a number of other complex issues: the ephemeral nature of emotions and psychological states-of-mind; the non-deliberate fusing of memories; identity via familial roots; the relationship between art and human experience; coping with existential angst; the veneration of ordinary objects and experience; and the individual's dilemma of trying to maintain a coherent sense of self against a fragmentary reality. This and "Tree Lights" were dual first prize winners for poetry at the 1997 Sinclair Community College Contest, in Dayton, Ohio.

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