"People like to ask
where did you grow up
They want to decide which of my sounds belong"
In her poem about the mouth Sprouls confronts all those people who have ever made her feel insecure about her accent. She expresses frustration over being put into a proverbial box based upon where she grew up. When she talks about belonging, she's hinting that the people who ask such questions imply judgement in their very asking, as if Sprouls is some sort of freak for speaking in a manner that's inconsistent with her hometown.
His sentences all ended with the word Austin,a place I’d never seen,so I packed a duffelbag,overwatered the garden, and set out on foot,the way many of the greats in my family had done,among other rascally things.
Most likely this poem was written as a reaction to a break-up. Sprouls talks about a mysterious male who somehow connects all his thoughts to Austin, so post-relationship she decides to see the place for herself. In an attempt to still ground herself amid this dramatic life change she talks about her family legacy. They were travelers, go-getters, and independent types. Hopefully she proves to herself with this trip that she is of the same stock.
"As temperatures fall, the dog and I keep bonding, folded up like tacos in comforters and wool. He’s smart enough to stay there while I boil water and crouch in the bath before work, keeping on and steeping my sweater, listening to the plastic on the windows not do its job, not hold out the outside air."
Sprouls has moved into a new home in an expensive neighborhood by a shoreline somewhere in New England. The winters there are harsh, and she expresses her tendency to retreat inward during this season. Even the dog shows no inclination to move more than necessary as they cuddle up under the blankets.
Debts pile up in one way or another, and we have to find a lodger.
She is blond and telescopic, always standing temptingly by windows, silhouetted.
She beckons you to rummage some bottomless goodie bag of irrelevant spheres.
She introduces you to crowds of bright squares. My face hurts after a while.
But by then you've built an observatory.
In this excerpt, Sprouls talks about renting out a room in her new home. The ad is answered by a young woman who is nearly indistinguishable from her profession to Sprouls; she's an astronomer. With telescopes and mysterious technology, she introduces Sprouls to the celestial spaces and quickly makes the home her personal observatory. It seems like she's a welcome addition.
