Abstract
234 Feminist Studies 45, no. 1. © 2019 by Abigail G. H. Manzella Built for Two Abigail G. H. Manzella Arabesque, darling, arabesque. Then my grandmother would guffaw as my six-year-old leg lifted, pose unsteady Twisting, shifting in my first artistic throes still buoyant and raw. She could be brusque, Not grasping what could hurt a child’s heart, But her laughter was infectious Her eyes like mine—a smile. At a distance, she supported my adventures in art. What became of your poems, she pried when I’d reached my full height. That’s kid stuff, my flippant response. She’d nod and at my next visit ask again, More shrewd than polite. A day arrived when she could ask no more. I sang to her the songs of her childhood Daisy, Daisy, give me your answer, do... She’d mouth the words and swing her leg The one still good. Just like a kid. And there I stood feeling like one, too. ...
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