Mon Fils L'homme. (Translation) . Poem by Michael Walker

Mon Fils L'homme. (Translation) .

Tout a coup ses epaules deviennent beaucoup plus larges,
comme Houdini developpait le corps
pendant que les gens l'enchainaient. Il ne semble
aucun temps depuis que je l'aidais a mettre son dormeur,
guider ses mollets dans l'interieur dore,
attacher une fermeture a glissier a lui et le jeter en haut et
attraper son poids. Je ne peux l'imaginer
n'etant plus un enfant, et je sais que je dois me preparer,
conquerir ma peur des hommes maintenant que mon fils
va en etre un. Ceci n'etait pas
ce que j'envisageais quand il se poussa en haut par moi comme
une malle scellee par la glace de l'Hudson,
cassa le cadenas, deroula les chaines,
et apparut dans mes bras. Maintenant il me regarde
comme houdini etudiait une boite
pour apprendre la sortie, puis souriait et permettait qu'on lui mettait des menottes.

-'My Son the Man'. Sharon Olds (b.1942, San Francisco) .

Monday, August 7, 2017
Topic(s) of this poem: son
POET'S NOTES ABOUT THE POEM
The English poem can be read on Poem Hunter/ Sharon Olds/ Poems/ 9/35.
This is about the poet's son, who is growing into manhood, his shoulders getting broader. She remembers her son as a baby, when she put him in his cot, threw him in the air and caught him again. Questionable safety for the baby, a bit dangerous.
She goes on to mention her fear of men, now that her son will soon be one. But why be afraid of men? Sounds feminist. Her comparison of her boy with Houdini is not convincing and makes the poem sound dated.
She recalls the painful process of giving birth to her son, to end the poem.
'My Son the Man' made me recall my own adolescence, when my shoulders got broader, I got taller, and my arms and legs got more muscular. My waist narrowed in proportion to the chest and shoulders.
I felt different and better. Who wants to stay a child or boy all their life? Those who talk so glibly of 'the growing pains of adolescence' are just being negative and misleading as far as I am concerned.
I have to say that Sharon Olds wrote better poems than this one.
COMMENTS OF THE POEM
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