Daystar 

She wanted a little room for thinking:

but she saw diapers steaming on the line,

a doll slump(fall or collapse clumsily)ed behind the door.

So she lugged a chair behind the garage

to sit out(remain where one is until the end of (an uncomfortable experience)) the children¡¯s naps.

Sometimes there were things to watch—

the pinched(nipped, sharply squeezed) armor of a vanished cricket,

a floating maple leaf. Other days

she stared until she was assured

when she closed her eyes

she¡¯d see only her own vivid blood.

She had an hour, at best, before Liza appeared

pouting(thrusting out or protuding the pips, esp. so as to express petulance or sulkiness) from the top of the stairs.

And just what was mother doing

out back with the field mice? Why,

building a palace. Later

that night when Thomas rolled over and

lurch(move in a way that is not regular or normal, especially making sudden movements backwards or forwards or from side to side)ed into her, she would open her eyes

and think of the place that was hers

for an hour— where

she was nothing,

pure nothing, in the middle of the day.

1986

 

The mother in Dove¡¯s "Daystar," overwhelmed by the demands of young children,

needs a room of her own. All she can manage, however, is a brief hour of respite.

The situation is virtually the whole story here. Nothing really happens except

that daily events (washing diapers, picking up toys, looking at crickets and leaves,

explaining the world to children, having sex) surround her brief private hour and

make it precious. Being ¡°nothing¡± (lines 21 and 22) takes on great value in these

circumstances.