What She Had Wanted (a pantoum)
When it all came down to it,
it wasn’t her father
gave up the baby, who’d spit
at fate and daughter.
It wasn’t her father
left alone now, the shit
of fate and daughter
of misfortune, who’d sit
(left alone) in the shit
of should-have-been, the fodder
of missed fortune; who’d sit
hard, when the hook caught her
of “should.” Had been fodder
for him, sure. Her cheek hurt
hard when the hook caught her,
connected all her fresh with dirt.
(For him, sure, her cheek.) Hurt
even with that fist so far away
(connected not with fresh, but dirt);
still squeezed her full breasts’ sway
even with that fist. So far away,
seemingly– what she had vaunted
squeezed still. Full breasts weigh
upon her shoulders–all she had wanted,
seemingly. While what she had vaunted
gave up the baby, who’d spit
upon her shoulder–all that she had wanted,
when it came down to it.
What She Had Wanted (a Pantoum)
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Agh! I wrote the above draft poem for dVerse Poets Pub “form for all” challenge posted by the wonderfully accomplished sonneteer Samuel Peralta (a/k/a Semaphore) . The challenge is to write a pantoum, a complicated form with interlocking repeated lines (and rhymes). I’ve posted others; and a brief article on them here (with one of my first ones.)
I am also linking this poem to With Real Toads for their open link night. For Real Toads, I added an audio recording (not so great) but I think a reading illuminates a poem like this since the pauses are taken in odd places. In the light, note that all the pauses are based on punctuation and not line breaks. (I’m a great believer in punctuation especially for things like pantoums, where it can be used to make changes in the repeated lines.)
The wonderful picture is of a light sculpture by Jason Martin of a heart in a box (tinfoil/cardboard).
ManicDDaily 
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