The Exact Moment I Became a Poet (for Kay Foran) by Paula Meehan

was in 1963 when Miss Shannon
rapping the duster on the easel’s peg
half obscured by a cloud of chalk

said Attend to your books, girls,
or mark my words, you’ll end up 
in the sewing factory.

It wasn’t just that some of the girls’
mothers worked in the sewing factory
or even that my own aunt did,

and many neighbours, but
that those words ‘end up’ robbed
the labour of its dignity.

Not that I knew it then,
not in those words—labour, dignity.
That’s all back construction,

making sense; allowing also
the teacher was right
and no one knows it like I do myself.

But: I saw them: mothers, aunts and neighbours
trussed like chickens
on a conveyor belt,

getting sewn up the way my granny
sewed the sage and onion stuffing
in the birds.

Words could pluck you,
leave you naked,
your lovely shiny feathers all gone.

Theme(s)

• Poetry
• Snobbery
• Poverty

Poetic Techniques

• Enjambment
• Metaphor
• Simile
• Alliteration

Rhyme + Structure

• 27 lines
• 9 stanzas
• No formal rhyme scheme

Tone + Mood

• Pensive
• Hopeful

Imagery

• Young child in a classroom
• Cloud of chalk
• Women on a conveyor belt naked, no feathers
• Bird being snuffed with sage, onion and stuffing

Symbolism

• Cloud of chalk, the difference between the student and teacher
• Birds and women
• Shiny feathers all gone, confidence and pride stripped away