Something Unexpected

The Hug
by Tess Gallagher

A woman is reading a poem on the street
and another woman stops to listen. We stop too
with our arms around each other. The poem
is being read and listened to out here
in the open. Behind us
no one is entering or leaving the houses.

Suddenly a hug comes over me and I'm
giving it to you, like a variable star shooting light
off to make itself comfortable, then
subsiding. I finish but keep on holding
you. A man walks up to us and we know he hasn't
come out of nowhere, but if he could, he
would have. He looks homeless because of how
he needs. "Can I have one of those?" he asks you,
and I feel you nod. I'm surprised,
surprised you don't tell him how
it is - that I'm yours, only
yours, etc, exclusive as a nose to
its face. Love - that's what we're talking about, love
that nabs you with "for me
only" and holds on.

So I walk over to him and put my
arms around him and try to
hug him like I mean it. He's got an overcoat on
so thick I can't feel
him past it. I'm starting the hug
and thinking, "How big a hug is this supposed to be?
How long shall I hold this hug?" Already
we could be eternal, his arms falling over my
shoulders, my hands not
meeting behind his back, he is so big!

I put my head into his chest and snuggle
in. I lean into him. I lean my blood and my wishes
into him. He stands for it. This is his
and he's starting to give it back so well I know he's
getting it. This hug. So truly, so tenderly
we stop having arms and I don't know if
my lover has walked away or what, or
if the woman is still reading the poem, or the houses -
what about them? - the houses.

Clearly, a little permission is a dangerous thing.
But when you hug someone you want it
to be a masterpiece of connection, the way the button
on his coat will leave the imprint of
a planet in my cheek
when I walk away. When I try to find some place
to go back to.


Tess' poem is striking--the "rabbit of the plot" hops from a fairly non-controversial scene, to something completely surreal and unexpected. And yet, you believe her--the poem never dips into sci-fi- non-reality, but rather revolves around a believable level of weirdness that sucks the reader into a delicious series of "maybes."

Your assignment: Take an everyday activity and "make it weird." You can start or end the poem that way--start surreal and end in the everyday, or do it like Tess, and evolve the poem away from the ordinary. You can go sci-fi, which sometimes works, or you can keep it on a do-able level--something that you probably would not do, but could if you wanted. Especially take note of Tess' use of first-person; it's very subtle and does not distract from the actions and images going on. While the poem is written through the eyes of "I," the poem focuses entirely on the hug. This is how to keep a poem from devolving into a "me, me, me" journal-entry--focus on the action, not the inner monologue.

~Dani