Three-Year-Old with Dad

[kolemath]

Three-Year-Old with Dad

Coffee shop public, crowded murmur, wondering 
what below is.  What's under there?  Every stranger's face.
What's behind these faces, Dad?
My missing pants.

“You need pants on to go outside,” he said that day.
“I has pants on, Daddy.”
He looked at my bare legs. “Are you fibbing?” He asked in stone.
“No.”
“Do you have on pants?”
“Yes, Daddy.”
“Time out!”

I can’t say the shame,
only write today

a chair flew across the room, screams, "Liar!"
And screaming, and suffocating hands,
and stone hands, and hands
I can't stand covering tears and gasps,
hands over my face, suffocating masks. 
"I don't has on pants, Dad."

Coffee shop public, I look around, wonder what below is. 
They don't know what's under here.  What's under there?  I wonder.
"Your child is so cute," a woman says, as she passes 
“What a great dad, bringing his child to the coffee shop,” her friend agrees.
"Thanks for the moothie, Dad."

[Cadence_CS]

I'm not sure if my understanding of this poem is what was meant, but I'd like to share what I got from it. To me it seems like "below" and "under" are the emotions, personalities, and memories that other people hold. The child is wondering who they are. The father is abusing the child and his "pants" that the father said he must always wear before going outside..in public, are what covers him like a facade. I feel like "pants" are a metaphor for his happy face he puts on for other people so they don't see the pain inside him caused by the father. He must always wear them in front of others. This might not be a metaphor and could be taken just as literally and still have the same affect. The dialect of the child makes the poem eerie because of how innocent and vulnerable he is. No one seems to be there to save him because his mask leads them to believe nothing is wrong. I may be completely wrong, but your poem was moving.

[RiverNotch]

Three-Year-Old with Dad

Coffee shop public, crowded murmur, wondering 
what below is.  What's under there?  Every stranger's face. I do like stuff dealing with the love -- or the hate -- below. Somehow, this piece reminds me of "Blue Velvet" -- and though I wasn't shocked the first time I caught that film, I sure was shocked reading this.
What's behind these faces, Dad?
My missing pants. Lol, what?

“You need pants on to go outside,” he said that day.
“I has pants on, Daddy.”
He looked at my bare legs. “Are you fibbing?” He asked in stone.
“No.”
“Do you have on pants?” Why the inversion?
“Yes, Daddy.”
“Time out!” Uh....

I can’t say the shame,
only write today

a chair flew across the room, screams, "Liar!" Yeah, this escalated quickly.
And screaming, and suffocating hands, Jesus Christ!
and stone hands, and hands I love the repetition of hands.
I can't stand covering tears and gasps, Jesus Christ!
hands over my face, suffocating masks. Maybe the concentration of hands before weakens the repetition of hands here. I'd go repeating masks, instead.
"I don't has on pants, Dad." Inversion still reads weird, although here it's at least rhythmic.

Coffee shop public, I look around, wonder what below is. 
They don't know what's under here.  What's under there?  I wonder. I do think the generally lost and abstract feeling you get here lets the reader breathe -- I mean, Jesus Christ!
"Your child is so cute," a woman says, as she passes 
“What a great dad, bringing his child to the coffee shop,” her friend agrees.
"Thanks for the moothie, Dad." Smoothie? I mean, this might be an attempt at somehow punning smoothie with mouthie, but smoothie already means something other than the drink, and a meaning that's somewhat relevant.

The piece reads autobiographical, which stuns me even more. I don't think I can derive any metaphors here, at least any legitimate, "in the moment" ones -- again, the piece reads autobiographical, so that the child's lie is a true child's lie (I'm sure I'd lied so, when I was younger), the father's escalation is a true escalation, and the metaphorizing, well, it's incidental. I would enjoy this poem, if it wasn't so sudden, so raw -- at least suicide or homicide or even (most poems about) genocide are between understanding beings, and when Gluck talks about wanting to kill an innocent life, she means it nebulously, metaphorically. But this is action, and again, this piece reads autobiographical, so that the action is so real -- definitely not my cup of tea. Or rather coffee?

[CRNDLSM]

I did not interpret abuse from this poem, but the tragic silence parents endure being forced to reason with a three year old.  In public no one sees the sheer struggle it must have took just to get pants on a kid.  Years of adamant defiance parents must lovingly accept, still buying the kid a moothie.  Took a couple days and toddler wrestling match to reach this conclusion, maybe if some of the voices were a little more defined in the scene jumping.

Three-Year-Old with Dad

Coffee shop public, crowded murmur, wondering 
what below is.  What's under there?  Every stranger's face.
What's behind these faces, Dad?
My missing pants.

“You need pants on to go outside,” he said that day.
“I has pants on, Daddy.”
He looked at my bare legs. “Are you fibbing?” He asked in stone.
“No.”
“Do you have on pants?”
“Yes, Daddy.”
“Time out!”

I can’t say the shame,
only write today

a chair flew across the room, screams, "Liar!"
And screaming, and suffocating hands,
and stone hands, and hands
I can't stand covering tears and gasps,
hands over my face, suffocating masks. 
"I don't has on pants, Dad."

Coffee shop public, I look around, wonder what below is. 
They don't know what's under here.  What's under there?  I wonder.
"Your child is so cute," a woman says, as she passes 
“What a great dad, bringing his child to the coffee shop,” her friend agrees.
"Thanks for the moothie, Dad."

[kolemath]

Thanks for the feedback, folks. Cadence's reading is closer than what I intended but CRN's reading is just as interesting. Thanks for the line by line river. I was trying to book end the abuse by a single moment in public, but it is abrupt. No allegory here. Just fked up parenting under a fake surface calm.

[Bueller]

Three-Year-Old with Dad

Coffee shop public, crowded murmur, wondering 
what below is.  What's under there?  Every stranger's face. -- ending a sentence on 'is' seems awkward.
What's behind these faces, Dad?
My missing pants.

“You need pants on to go outside,” he said that day.
“I has pants on, Daddy.”
He looked at my bare legs. “Are you fibbing?” He asked in stone.
“No.”
“Do you have on pants?”
“Yes, Daddy.”
“Time out!”

I can’t say the shame,
only write today -- it's unclear to me if this is the dad recollecting or if it is the child recounting the scene as an adult. Although the use of "he" in the previous stanza is leading me toward the second conclusion.

a chair flew across the room, screams, "Liar!" -- sounds like the chair screamed
And screaming, and suffocating hands,
and stone hands, and hands
I can't stand covering tears and gasps,
hands over my face, suffocating masks. 
"I don't has on pants, Dad."

Coffee shop public, I look around, wonder what below is. -- same goes for this as for the line above ending in 'is.'
They don't know what's under here.  What's under there?  I wonder. -- shouldn't it be, "what's under there, I wonder?"
"Your child is so cute," a woman says, as she passes -- some punctuation at the end here?
“What a great dad, bringing his child to the coffee shop,” her friend agrees.
"Thanks for the moothie, Dad."

I don't honestly know what to make of the poem because I don't know who's recollecting the events. That ambiguity spoils any message for me.

Cheers,

Luke

[UselessBlueprint]

Three-Year-Old with Dad

Coffee shop public, crowded murmur, wondering 
what below is.  What's under there?  Every stranger's face. (I'm actually fine with "what below is." A touch of young voice without being unreadable)
What's behind these faces, Dad?
My missing pants. (I've only gone through this a couple of times, but the above lines feel disconnected from everything here and below. I can try to connect some dots here, but it feels forced and the image ends up with some ugly appendages that don't seem to belong.)

“You need pants on to go outside,” he said that day.
“I has pants on, Daddy.”
He looked at my bare legs. “Are you fibbing?” He asked in stone. ("asked in stone" is an odd phrase. IMO, needlessly awkward. It doesn't contribute to the voice and it just gets me hung up on the phrase, not the tone it should represent)
“No.”
“Do you have on pants?”
“Yes, Daddy.”
“Time out!” (No major objections for this section, it serves its purpose well enough.)

I can’t say the shame,
only write today

a chair flew across the room, screams, "Liar!"
And screaming, and suffocating hands,
and stone hands, and hands
I can't stand covering tears and gasps,
hands over my face, suffocating masks. 
"I don't has on pants, Dad."

Coffee shop public, I look around, wonder what below is. 
They don't know what's under here.  What's under there?  I wonder.
"Your child is so cute," a woman says, as she passes (just a nit, but I think "lady" instead of "woman" might fit the voice better here)
“What a great dad, bringing his child to the coffee shop,” her friend agrees.
"Thanks for the moothie, Dad."

I have very few issues with how the piece is written, but I would like to touch on some comments from other critiques. Cadence has a nice interpretation, but the idea behind it is not a new one, and if this poem is trying to convey something along those lines, I think it fails at doing so. RiverNotch's note that it feels autobiographical and Bueller's comments should underscore that point (if not, I've done it here as well). There is ambiguity, and unfortunately, it seems that the ambiguity may be in the wrong places.

I do get the feeling of an abusive parent, and I expect this is with intent, even if not the absolute intent. As RiverNotch says, I am not able to pull out many metaphors. It reads literally to me (more so than autobiographical). As an excerpt from an abused child's life, it works, but it works with limited poetry. As a poem on its own, I think it fails. I can't reach a more effective critique because the absolute intent seems to have gotten lost somewhere.

[Emz]

I'm not sure if my understanding of this poem is what was meant, but I'd like to share what I got from it. To me it seems like "below" and "under" are the emotions, personalities, and memories that other people hold. The child is wondering who they are. The father is abusing the child and his "pants" that the father said he must always wear before going outside..in public, are what covers him like a facade. I feel like "pants" are a metaphor for his happy face he puts on for other people so they don't see the pain inside him caused by the father. He must always wear them in front of others. This might not be a metaphor and could be taken just as literally and still have the same affect. The dialect of the child makes the poem eerie because of how innocent and vulnerable he is. No one seems to be there to save him because his mask leads them to believe nothing is wrong. I may be completely wrong, but your poem was moving.

Dear Cadence,

Your response is very interesting. I read it a couple of times and interpreted it closer to what CRND had, but this reading totally explains why there is a shift from the child saying "Daddy" to "Dad"; the former before abuse and the latter when the kid grew up too soon...

Emma

[Sparkydashforth]

Hi Kolemath

lots to like in this work.


Coffee shop public, crowded murmur, wondering
what below is. What's under there? Every stranger's face.
What's behind these faces, Dad?.............................................Like the way you place yourself in the small world here.
My missing pants. .........YEs!

“You need pants on to go outside,” he said that day.
“I has pants on, Daddy.”
He looked at my bare legs. “Are you fibbing?” He asked in stone....stone-faced may be better here.
“No.”
“Do you have on pants?”
“Yes, Daddy.”
“Time out!”....................enjoyable lines.

I can’t say the shame,
only write today...................way too maudlin.

a chair flew across the room, screams, "Liar!"
And screaming, and suffocating hands,
and stone hands, and hands
I can't stand covering tears and gasps,
hands over my face, suffocating masks.
"I don't has on pants, Dad." ..............A little over-the top, but the stanza it has good energy.
I would end the poem on the last line of this stanza.

Coffee shop public, I look around, wonder what below is.
They don't know what's under here. What's under there? I wonder.
"Your child is so cute," a woman says, as she passes
“What a great dad, bringing his child to the coffee shop,” her friend agrees.
"Thanks for the moothie, Dad."

[BecktheDog]

The idea and vision of this poem is fantastic. I think it is an image that most people can relate to and one that evokes strong emotion. My suggestion is to keep developing the poem so that it does not feel so disjointed. I was slightly confused reading it. I think if the poem were too explicit you would lose some of your vision. I think the action of the poem needs to be a little bit clearer though.