13 years old

[Lizzie]

Mom was at the kitchen sink, sweating
and snipping beans. Her lips pursed,
then she asked you where you'd been.

You'd wandered off again, down the lane
the tractors made as they rolled through the fields.
You'd followed their tracks to the hill
where the ferns and the trillium grew,
checked the ground for poison ivy,
then sat down and wondered why.

Why your palms were still moving.
Why your head swayed without wind.
Why you had goosebumps in the middle of summer.
Why shade hurt your eyes.

The trillium bloomed every year in May,
but white to purple took only a week—
a floral Brigadoon.

The tall corn covered you from the sun
on the way back, like a boyfriend drapes
his arms around a girl.
The gentle scrapes of their rough leaves
felt real as beds and dinner plates.

The door to the kitchen opened itself;
another person's arm pulled the handle.

How to tell her that she didn't have a child?
She'd steamed the life out of those beans.

She didn't care where you'd been
or whether your hands were real,
only that they could shell a bushel of peas.

https://www.mayoclinic.org/diseases-cond...c-20352911

[TranquillityBase]

Mom was at the kitchen sink, sweating
and snipping beans. Her lips pursed,
then she asked you where you'd been.

You'd wandered off again, down the lane
the tractors made as they rolled through the fields.
You'd followed their tracks to the hill
where the ferns and the trillium grew,
checked the ground for poison ivy,
then sat down and wondered why.

Why your palms were still moving.
Why your head swayed without wind.
Why you had goosebumps in the middle of summer.
Why shade hurt your eyes.

The trillium bloomed every year in May,
but white to purple took only a week—
a floral Brigadoon.                                         This stanza seems a digression that doesn't add anything to the narrative. Maybe it parallels the child's transformation.  If so, I'd at least cut "a floral Brigadoon"

The tall corn covered you from the sun
on the way back, like a boyfriend drapes            move this to beginning of stanza
his arms around a girl.
The gentle scrapes of their rough leaves
felt real as beds and dinner plates.

The door to the kitchen opened itself;
another person's arm pulled the handle.

How to tell her that she didn't have a child?         this prepares us for that last stanza
She'd steamed the life out of those beans.

She didn't care where you'd been
or whether your hands were real,
only that they could shell a bushel of peas.          great final stanza

This leaves me, as a reader, wondering what exactly happened on that hill.  That's perhaps a good thing. You don't try to explain the transformation.  It's up to the reader to come to their own conclusions. The reader has a strong picture of the mother's viewpoint, but the child's transformation is left uncertain.  I didn't find it frustrating, just wondering why, as the child is wondering why upon the hill.

I don't understand the meaning of the title, unless it's referring to the child's age.  You might make that clearer.

TqB

[Mark A Becker]

Hello Lizzie-
Since I am a known fan of brevity, it is usually my tendency to say "cut, cut, cut."  But instead I'll try to offer suggestions otherwise.

Mom was at the kitchen sink, sweating
and snipping beans. Her lips pursed,
then she asked you where you'd been.  This stanza could occur closer to the end, though it does work as an intro.

You'd wandered off again, down the lane
the tractors made as they rolled through the fields.
You'd followed their tracks to the hill
where the ferns and the trillium grew,  At 13, seeking independence...
checked the ground for poison ivy, .. yet still reminded of those childhood warnings
then sat down and wondered why.

Why your palms were still moving. 
Why your head swayed without wind.
Why you had goosebumps in the middle of summer. Exploring your body
Why shade hurt your eyes.  The repetition of 'why' is a bit overdone.

The trillium bloomed every year in May,
but white to purple took only a week—  the transition of girl to young woman
a floral Brigadoon.

The tall corn covered you from the sun
on the way back, like a boyfriend might
drape his arms around a girl.  Hmm? Perhaps a little more subtle, as I'm guessing she doesn't have a boyfriend yet
The gentle scrapes of their rough leaves
felt real as beds and dinner plates.

The door to the kitchen opened itself;
another person's arm pulled the handle.  These lines seem superfluous

Mom didn't care where you'd been
or whether your hands were real,  Or that you may have started your period, or were 'investigating', is what I think you're implying.
only that they could shell a bushel of peas.

How to tell her that she didn't have a child?  I suggest placing these lines at the end.  To me they are the essence of the poem.
She'd steamed the life out of those beans.

[Wjames]

Mom was at the kitchen sink, sweating
and snipping beans. Her lips pursed,
then she asked you where you'd been.  

You'd wandered off again, down the lane  This is a good intro imo, it places you in the mind of the narrator.
the tractors made as they rolled through the fields. you could cut 'made as they'
You'd followed their tracks to the hill
where the ferns and the trillium grew, you could cut the two 'thes' in this line - with them there, there is a lot of them in this section.
checked the ground for poison ivy, 
then sat down and wondered why.

Why your palms were still moving.
Why your head swayed without wind.
Why you had goosebumps in the middle of summer.
Why shade hurt your eyes. I think this line is implying light is painful on their eyes, but even the shade hurts as well - I think if you add 'even' before shade it might make it clearer.

The trillium bloomed every year in May,
but white to purple took only a week—    A nice idea.
a floral Brigadoon. 

The tall corn covered you from the sun
on the way back, like a boyfriend drapes
his arms around a girl.  This is nice.
The gentle scrapes of their rough leaves
felt real as beds and dinner plates. This is an interesting simile - beds and dinner plates are no more real than anything else to me. They do imply traditional womans role in a house, though, making beds and preparing dinner? 

The door to the kitchen opened itself;
another person's arm pulled the handle.

How to tell her that she didn't have a child? I agree this could be a good ending.
She'd steamed the life out of those beans. 

She didn't care where you'd been
or whether your hands were real,
only that they could shell a bushel of peas. The last four lines are the first thing about the mother-daughter relationship in the poem (or about the mother) - because we know so little about the mother and the daughters relationship, it lessens the impact. I think you could potentially add more details earlier in the poem. 

Hey Lizzie, I enjoyed reading this. It is not entirely clear, which makes it kind of nice to think about.

[Lizzie]

Hello, everyone. I've added a spoiler that should help a good deal with clarity. I made an assumption that this phenomenon was well known, so that's my oversight. 

Wjames: you mentioned that the mother's addition seemed odd at the end, but she is introduced right off the bat. Did you miss the first part of the poem, or is there just an inappropriately brief introduction? More can be added.

[TranquillityBase]

Hello, everyone. I've added a spoiler that should help a good deal with clarity. I made an assumption that this phenomenon was well known, so that's my oversight. 

Hi Lizzie,

I think you need to make this more apparent throughout the child's journey, such as

"You watched yourself wander off again
down the lane the tractors made...."

Maybe in a more subtle way, but still, more of the lines like

"The door to the kitchen opened itself
another person's arm pulled the handle."

Because no, this is not a phenomenon I was aware of and I doubt it's common knowledge, and it's not made clear until those two lines at the end.

I think such a revision would transform this poem from simply beautiful to remarkable.

TqB

[Wjames]

Hello, everyone. I've added a spoiler that should help a good deal with clarity. I made an assumption that this phenomenon was well known, so that's my oversight. 

Wjames: you mentioned that the mother's addition seemed odd at the end, but she is introduced right off the bat. Did you miss the first part of the poem, or is there just an inappropriately brief introduction? More can be added.

I just meant that the end of the poem makes it seem like the poem is largely about the impact the mother has had on the narrator (with the spoiler, I see the poem differently).

"She'd steamed the life out of those beans" seemed to me the beans represented the narrator - and only caring if her child can shell her peas, I was reading it as though the mother was something of a tyrant who had hurt the kids development in someway, but we don't see how. If the poem were about that, I would want more content from the mother to show how they had impacted the kid.

After reading the spoiler, I see the mother doesn't understand the narrators deporsonalization. I do agree with Tranquil, this isn't something most readers will immediately think of - that's ok, though, I still enjoyed reading it and wondering what exactly had happened that day.