Poets | Bookstore | Poem of the Day | Top 40 | Search | Comments | Privacy
April 24th, 2014 - we have 234 poets, 8,025 poems and 105,328 comments.
Denise Duhamel - Crater Face

is what we called her. The story was
that her father had thrown Drano at her
which was probably true, given the way she slouched
through fifth grade, afraid of the world, recess
especially. She had acne scars
before she had acne—poxs and dips
and bright red patches.
                                   I don't remember
any report in the papers. I don't remember
my father telling me her father had gone to jail.
I never looked close to see the particulars
of Crater Face's scars. She was a blur, a cartoon
melting. Then, when she healed—her face,
a million pebbles set in cement.
                                               Even Comet Boy,
who got his name by being so abrasive,
who made fun of everyone, didn't make fun
of her. She walked over the bridge
with the one other white girl who lived
in her neighborhood. Smoke curled
like Slinkies from the factory stacks
above them.
                  I liked to imagine that Crater Face
went straight home, like I did, to watch Shirley Temple
on channel 56. I liked to imagine that she slipped
into the screen, bumping Shirley with her hip
so that child actress slid out of frame, into the tubes
and wires that made the TV sputter when I turned it on.
Sometimes when I watched, I'd see Crater Face
tap-dancing with tall black men whose eyes
looked shiny, like the whites of hard-boiled eggs.
I'd try to imagine that her block was full
of friendly folk, with a lighthouse or goats
running in the street.
                               It was my way of praying,
my way of un-imagining the Drano pellets
that must have smacked against her
like a round of mini-bullets,
her whole face as vulnerable as a tongue
wrapped in sizzling pizza cheese.
How she'd come home with homework,
the weight of her books bending her into a wilting plant.
How her father called her slut, bitch, big baby, slob.
The hospital where she was forced to say it was an accident.
Her face palpable as something glowing in a Petri dish.
The bandages over her eyes.
                                            In black and white,
with all that make-up, Crater Face almost looked pretty
sure her MGM father was coming back soon from the war,
seeing whole zoos in her thin orphanage soup.
She looked happiest when she was filmed
from the back, sprinting into the future,
fading into tiny gray dots on UHF.

Share |

Added: Feb 20 2003 | Viewed: 4418 times | Comments and analysis of Crater Face by Denise Duhamel Comments (24)

Crater Face - Comments and Information

Poet: Denise Duhamel
Poem: Crater Face

Comment 24 of 24, added on November 2nd, 2013 at 12:54 AM.
VyIHhQNnPyLehQ

ggilIb Fantastic blog post.Really thank you! Keep writing.

take a look at it! from Tonga
Comment 23 of 24, added on October 15th, 2013 at 7:47 PM.
duWsxCIKpoA

bZcf91 Say, you got a nice article post.Much thanks again. Want more.

link building team from Qatar
Comment 22 of 24, added on September 24th, 2013 at 6:27 PM.
PlDzTHBlOkJJQeg

RJWCA2 Very good blog article.Much thanks again. Awesome.

cheap link building from Bahamas

Are you looking for more information on this poem? Perhaps you are trying to analyze it? The poem, Crater Face, has received 24 comments. Click here to read them, and perhaps post a comment of your own.

Poem Info

Duhamel Info
Copyright © 2000-2012 Gunnar Bengtsson. All Rights Reserved. Links | Bookstore