Vacation Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: AB CDEF GHIJKL MKNOPD CDHQR DSTSU VWUSX YS SOZ| When I asked my mother why they were called sand tarts | A |
| she couldn't answer me | B |
| - | |
| perhaps this ravenous curiosity causes my brother | C |
| to lean with all his year old winter break strength on the back of his chair | D |
| gently rocking with the liquid motion of my mother's hands | E |
| as they knead the dough | F |
| - | |
| The secret to these annual Christmas cookies | G |
| according to the baby powdered wisdom of a line of grandmothers | H |
| is to create a dough like the wings of a dead butterfly | I |
| My mother's floured hands glide back and forth | J |
| until the fake wood grain on our table cuts through | K |
| the fragile edible sheet | L |
| - | |
| I scatter burned sprinkles | M |
| The scraping of my fingernails across the cooling aluminum to | K |
| I Saw Three Ships Come Sailing In | N |
| drowns the coarse snap accompanying the sudden | O |
| separation of the leg | P |
| from the rest of my brother's chair | D |
| - | |
| That night at dinner my father reaches for the pepper | C |
| perched awkwardly on an old straight backed chair | D |
| from another room originally a grandmother's | H |
| Thrown by the alien noise of this chair's legs against the floor | Q |
| a viscous part of my inner ear echoes with | R |
| - | |
| the waves crashing against the shore somewhere in Delaware | D |
| masking the sound of breaking glass | S |
| a block away | T |
| and the incessant futile yapping of the Pekingese | S |
| tied to a scrubby tree out front | U |
| - | |
| The cheap bubbles my cousins blow from a plastic magenta bottle | V |
| explode before they hit the sand | W |
| reflecting in their formative instant | U |
| my mother on the blanket behind us | S |
| picking a scab she didn't realize she had | X |
| - | |
| Before the sea reddens I staunch the rediscovered flow of her blood | Y |
| with red and green sugars | S |
| - | |
| and somewhere in our basement a three legged chair creaks | S |
| under the weight of a waterlogged seat cushion | O |
| smelling suspiciously of salt | Z |
Elizabeth Wilcox
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Poem topics: , Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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