{"id":9752,"date":"2016-04-15T01:00:57","date_gmt":"2016-04-15T08:00:57","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/admin.patheos.com\/blogs\/goodletters\/?p=9752"},"modified":"2016-05-12T12:24:58","modified_gmt":"2016-05-12T19:24:58","slug":"poetry-friday-the-grackles","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.patheos.com\/blogs\/goodletters\/2016\/04\/poetry-friday-the-grackles\/","title":{"rendered":"Poetry Friday: “The Grackles” by Betsy Sholl"},"content":{"rendered":"\n<\/head>

\"PoetryHere is a poem that silently enacts a conversion.\u00a0 The poem starts off with a string of scornful terms for the speaker\u2019s new neighbors, culminating in the almost mean pun on their child\u2019s \u201cgrin\u201d as \u201cgrim.\u201d But right after this, the speaker begins to soften her terms: she notices a \u201cwarmth\u201d in this noisy, dirty, low-class family. Then by the start of the fourth stanza, a switch in point of view has occurred: the speaker sees herself through their eyes. So when the poem\u2019s title image enters (in the inner-rhymed \u201cracket grackles\u201d), the poet intentionally leaves ambiguous whether it\u2019s the speaker or the previously demeaned family who are the bullying grackles. Whoever they are becomes irrelevant, though, in the poem\u2019s closing lines, which focus on the birds themselves. As the sunlight strikes them, the speaker\u2019s previously negative terms for them turn glowingly positive: \u201cthey\u2019ve got the spectrum\u2019s full iridescent gleam.\u201d The poem is ultimately suggesting here that whomever or whatever we demean will\u2014when seen in a new light\u2014 shine with this richly full gleam.<\/em><\/p>\n

\u2014Peggy Rosenthal
\n<\/em><\/p>\n

\n

The Grackles by Betsy Sholl<\/strong><\/a><\/p>\n

Down the block, our new neighbors, not unlike
\nthe old, could be named the Grackles, given
\nthe way everything they have is loud: cars,
\nchildren, stereos, parties. It all spills out
\ninto the street\u2014broken bikes, pizza boxes,
\na nasty looking dog with nothing to restrain it<\/p>\n

but the owner\u2019s curse. Giving the mutt wide berth,
\nstepping around a rusty bike rim, I glance
\nat the weary-looking man, the angry woman,
\nsullen teen, younger girl with a smudged grin.
\nGrim, it seems. But there\u2019s a warmth here, too,
\nthe father teaching his son to make the car<\/p>\n

loud by tweaking something on the exhaust,
\nas the mother spit-washes the baby\u2019s face,
\nlaughs through smoke and sunken eyes
\nat her barefoot daughter\u2019s new skip rope trick.
\nWhen the son grabs the dog\u2019s collar\u2014sorry
\nthe stupid pooch frightened me\u2014I watch him<\/p>\n

slowly size up my jog-reddened face,
\namused disdain on his for the type I am,
\nflitting around the block in ragged sweats
\nas if life\u2019s a matter of tips from slick
\nmagazines. Such a racket grackles make,
\nlike castanets, scolding the song birds<\/p>\n

they\u2019ve chased up into the trees, giving them
\nflack for not even trying to bully back. Now
\nthe sun flashes on them its brightest beam,
\nso it\u2019s clear from light\u2019s point of view,
\nhowever drab they may look in the shade
\nthey\u2019ve got the spectrum\u2019s full iridescent gleam.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Betsy Sholl<\/strong>\u2019s most recent book of poems is Otherwise Unseeable<\/em> (Wisconsin). She teaches in the MFA program of Vermont College of Fine Arts and was poet laureate of Maine from 2006 to 2011.<\/p>\n

\"GL<\/a><\/em><\/p>\n<\/body><\/html>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Here is a poem that silently enacts a conversion.\u00a0 The poem starts off with a string of scornful terms for the speaker\u2019s new neighbors, culminating in the almost mean pun on their child\u2019s \u201cgrin\u201d as \u201cgrim.\u201d But right after this, the speaker begins to soften her terms: she notices a \u201cwarmth\u201d in this noisy, dirty, […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1050,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[15],"tags":[165,1391,69,422,237,44,142,2109,3669,70,3572,122,1945,1884,439,146],"class_list":["post-9752","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-peggy-rosenthal","tag-beauty","tag-betsy-sholl","tag-children","tag-community","tag-contemplation","tag-faith","tag-family","tag-light","tag-loud","tag-love","tag-peggy-rosenthal","tag-poetry","tag-poetry-friday","tag-reflection","tag-relationships-2","tag-society-and-culture"],"yoast_head":"\nPoetry Friday: "The Grackles" by Betsy Sholl<\/title>\n<meta name=\"description\" content=\"Here is a poem that silently enacts a conversion.\u00a0 The poem starts off with a string of scornful terms for the speaker's new neighbors, culminating in the\" \/>\n<meta name=\"robots\" content=\"index, follow, max-snippet:-1, max-image-preview:large, max-video-preview:-1\" \/>\n<link rel=\"canonical\" href=\"https:\/\/www.patheos.com\/blogs\/goodletters\/2016\/04\/poetry-friday-the-grackles\/\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:locale\" content=\"en_US\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:type\" content=\"article\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:title\" content=\"Poetry Friday: "The Grackles" by Betsy Sholl\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:description\" content=\"Here is a poem that silently enacts a conversion.\u00a0 The poem starts off with a string of scornful terms for the speaker's new neighbors, culminating in the\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:url\" content=\"https:\/\/www.patheos.com\/blogs\/goodletters\/2016\/04\/poetry-friday-the-grackles\/\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:site_name\" content=\"Good Letters\" \/>\n<meta property=\"article:published_time\" content=\"2016-04-15T08:00:57+00:00\" \/>\n<meta property=\"article:modified_time\" content=\"2016-05-12T19:24:58+00:00\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:image\" content=\"http:\/\/wp.production.patheos.com\/blogs\/goodletters\/files\/2016\/04\/Poetry-Friday-Grackles-Poem-Big-300x186.jpg\" \/>\n<meta name=\"author\" content=\"Peggy Rosenthal\" \/>\n<meta name=\"twitter:card\" content=\"summary_large_image\" \/>\n<meta name=\"twitter:label1\" content=\"Written by\" \/>\n\t<meta name=\"twitter:data1\" content=\"Peggy Rosenthal\" \/>\n\t<meta name=\"twitter:label2\" content=\"Est. reading time\" \/>\n\t<meta name=\"twitter:data2\" content=\"2 minutes\" \/>\n<script type=\"application\/ld+json\" class=\"yoast-schema-graph\">{\"@context\":\"https:\/\/schema.org\",\"@graph\":[{\"@type\":\"WebPage\",\"@id\":\"https:\/\/www.patheos.com\/blogs\/goodletters\/2016\/04\/poetry-friday-the-grackles\/\",\"url\":\"https:\/\/www.patheos.com\/blogs\/goodletters\/2016\/04\/poetry-friday-the-grackles\/\",\"name\":\"Poetry Friday: \\\"The Grackles\\\" by Betsy Sholl\",\"isPartOf\":{\"@id\":\"https:\/\/www.patheos.com\/blogs\/goodletters\/#website\"},\"datePublished\":\"2016-04-15T08:00:57+00:00\",\"dateModified\":\"2016-05-12T19:24:58+00:00\",\"author\":{\"@id\":\"https:\/\/www.patheos.com\/blogs\/goodletters\/#\/schema\/person\/7c6ca1f7acf2aa5284139bbbab35446e\"},\"description\":\"Here is a poem that silently enacts a conversion.\u00a0 The poem starts off with a string of scornful terms for the speaker's new neighbors, culminating in the\",\"breadcrumb\":{\"@id\":\"https:\/\/www.patheos.com\/blogs\/goodletters\/2016\/04\/poetry-friday-the-grackles\/#breadcrumb\"},\"inLanguage\":\"en-US\",\"potentialAction\":[{\"@type\":\"ReadAction\",\"target\":[\"https:\/\/www.patheos.com\/blogs\/goodletters\/2016\/04\/poetry-friday-the-grackles\/\"]}]},{\"@type\":\"BreadcrumbList\",\"@id\":\"https:\/\/www.patheos.com\/blogs\/goodletters\/2016\/04\/poetry-friday-the-grackles\/#breadcrumb\",\"itemListElement\":[{\"@type\":\"ListItem\",\"position\":1,\"name\":\"Home\",\"item\":\"https:\/\/www.patheos.com\/blogs\/goodletters\/\"},{\"@type\":\"ListItem\",\"position\":2,\"name\":\"Poetry Friday: “The Grackles” by Betsy Sholl\"}]},{\"@type\":\"WebSite\",\"@id\":\"https:\/\/www.patheos.com\/blogs\/goodletters\/#website\",\"url\":\"https:\/\/www.patheos.com\/blogs\/goodletters\/\",\"name\":\"Good Letters\",\"description\":\"Words. 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