Reaction to “Iron” by Elizabeth Acevedo

And although I am a poet, I am not the bullet;
I will not heat-search the soft points.
I am not the coroner who will graze her hand
over naked knees. Who will swish her fingers
in the mouth. Who will flip the body over, her eye a hook
fishing for government-issued lead.
I am not the sidewalk, which is unsurprised
as another cheek scrapes harsh against it.
             Although I too enjoy soft palms on me;
enjoy when he rests on my body with a hard breath;
                                                                                 I have clasped
this man inside me and released him again and again,
listening to him die thousands of little deaths.
What is a good metaphor for a woman who loves in a time like this?
I am no scalpel or high thread count sheet. Not a gavel, or hand-painted teacup.
I am neither           nor romanced by the streetlamp nor candlelight;
my hands are not an iron, but look, they’re hot, look
how I place them           in love           on his skin
and am still able to unwrinkle his spine.

(225 words)

When I first started the poem, I thought that it would be… different than it was. I did not expect it to take a turn for the romantic side of things, the way that she loves someone, how she feels when she’s with her lover. When I read the title and the first line, I thought it would something harsher, something with more battle and blood. And then the part with the coroner, I can’t tell if this is describing a scrape on one’s hand or knee or just rubbing your hand over your knee? I don’t really understand it. But the 3rd stanza, I think that’s about how she deals with being hurt, she won’t just sit there, let it happen, she doesn’t expect it. It happens and she reacts. The 4th goes on to how she how she enjoys lying with her lover, being near him and keeping him alive and going. But, I think it’s about a lover who has been sent off to war, forced to battle and risk his life every day she has to appreciate all the time she has with him. And then the final stanza focuses on him returning home and though she may not be fierce or a warrior, but she can comfort him, massage his spine, help him. Be a healer rather than a killer.

Leave a comment