Late, organized hours in
the indelible and lukewarm
smells of my room
where I burn a CD -
more for me,
but I'll ship it to you.
Today is strands of
peaks and troughs.
My appetite's confused,
it flounders in
just-dumped mode.
The rest of me craves
the I-shouldn'ts
of undercover bad habits.
A midnight shower where
velocity plus slip-through-my-fingers
green-goo body-wash
reddens my eye and
I am a child.
No tears. But I want them.
Please tell me what you think
Comments
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That ending makes me sigh. Funny how your poem takes me back to quite a few times when I've gotten soap in such places and it always seems to make my eyes ache for days...
I know from experience ( though I'm a man ) that on most accounts a poem is a bra. It has to fit to your liking , But also be able to support readers. Your poems always do this. No matter how personal you make your writes , It can be relatable or at least sensitive to the goings on around you. Take stanza two for instance...Honesty and shear poetry mixed with an utter sense of style. Not many poets could make those words work in quite that way. hats off to you for making this as fine-tuned as the richness that lies upon the final phrase.
I just enjoyed this. Plain and simple. You can't , I think , Get more human.
Lovely.
Take care ,
james
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I have to agree with EstherG here. I'd say more, but I honestly feel like I've done enough workshopping of poems this semester. I genuinely like this as a poem, Anne.
And as for the content, hey, I like you: be okay.
Love,
Ruth
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Beautiful.
This is beautifully, beautifully written – it feels more authentic, somehow, for dealing with the aftereffects of a relationship breakdown in a kind of everyday and casual way: the burning of CDs, the shower with the gooey gel, and the wanting to cry…there’s such a pain in this, but it’s so quietly done and restrained, almost like it’s sort of to be expected as a consequence of breaking up. But of course that doesn’t make the pain any less, and I think that’s what you’ve conveyed so accurately here without having to resort to I’m-so-sad and it’s-the-end-of-the-world and all those overblown and melodramatic statements that I think take away the validity of the emotion inspiring the poem.
The ending in particular was achy and empty feeling – ‘No tears. But I want them’. And again, the matter-of-factness only makes it resonate more, makes it feel more truthful. This is a really well-written and desolate piece – it’s lovely.
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