it's 10 p.m. and the wind
keeps tumbling the wrong way,
against the sea and against
me, which dreamed of being beautiful
like the curvature of violas,
which was afraid
of dancing.
this ship is not supposed
to feel so empty and
hudson bay is not supposed
to be shit-brown and
where did all the stars go?
"hey," - i look but no one
is behind me - "no, i'm talking
to you," says skater boy roy,
and i don't think
he actually knows
my name.
he grins, "nice shoes," except
they're not, so my mouth
stretches a bit
to hide me.
(and don't you get it?
you're not supposed
to be here, tall boy roy,
looking down
with brooklyn in your eyes,
smelling too much
like home)
"i'm thirsty," i say, because the cups
are on the other side
of my silence; "i'm sorry."
and i was,
my throat saturated with humming
curving viola strings
and redhead roys and
"see you later." (i hope not.)
trombone boy roy, listen,
brass don't ever talk to woodwinds,
you see, we're much too
easy to skin.
he listens: "but sora,
don't you kind of miss the stars?"
by the time the thistles
in my tongue dislodge,
he is already gone back downstairs
to the people-who-dance,
and i am already looking up,
sick of watching skyline girls
go quiet.
something like sirius
is falling, lonely in
the tortoiseshell sky,
probably just
an airplane
but i make a wish
anyway.
Author notes
(the title is from an Anberlin song)
last summer, i went to nyc with my orchestra, and we went on a cruise w/ dinner & dance, but since i hate dances i stayed up on the empty deck and everyone danced below and i didn't really know anyone in my orchestra at all and so i stayed quiet the whole time.
i knew he was a skater boy b/c earlier that week, my chaperone group had accidentally left me behind at a store and he passed by on his skateboard, which he wasn't supposed to do, and talked to me, which he wasn't supposed to do.
i guess this is more of a "tough time" turned okay. (sorry, i might submit something else)
A contest entry
- TI8 - Round 10 - Top 4 - Finale - Assignment 3 by Tangled Angle.
1400 points, ended June 15, 2008, 4 entries
Honorable mention
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
critique:
Comments
1 - 5 of 5
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I really liked the imagery in this, and the whole thing in general. "Brass don't ever talk to woodwinds" ... somehow, in some strange way I can relate to that. We're delicate. Go away, trumpet-things.
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i know, right? those obnoxiously loud and disgusting people, emptying their spit valves on OUR FLOOR, overblowing OUR EARS.
we should get theo to rant about this.
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the line breakage was a bit awkward for me for the first four stanzas, but after that it flowed okay for me.
i liked the way you did this - but i dont think you were careful enough, i felt like you could have smoothed it out a bit. it was as if you got too caught up in it.
still, i like this a lot. i dont think it lacks your usual flair - it just doesnt have as much as the usual.
you did good.
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I didn't like the line breakage between three and four, it halts the flow to me.
I can see how this is personal but in this piece I almost felt like you lost a bit of your wonderful flair.
It is still a good piece, just not excellent like I am used to from you. -
cool, i liked it, the images were nicely mixed in with the story. i like the orchestra-related descriptions like "curvature of violas"
-cassidy
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