I can’t look at you.
I could look at the man whose breath bubbled,
whose face grew a beard of tubes;
I could look at the little girl who cried in bed
because she couldn’t lie still on her bruises.
But I can’t look at you.
I study the yellow plastic of the curtain
and think of things that aren’t here,
aren’t now,
dream of something so far
from the starched white women
that march past.
I dream of our beach.
Your voice
is a crackle of seashells
over the rasping ocean,
and I feel your hand clasping at mine,
skin rubbery like kelp.
I drag my eyes up
to meet your own,
sea-blue but blood-shot,
like marbled pebbles;
wrinkles writhe across your face,
dancing waves
or cracked rocks,
salt stinging at your lips.
I don’t want to believe this is you.
That hair is thin
and rough as marram grass,
that skin, translucent
as a shrimp, fat worms
sliding through your flesh.
But I hold my eyes on you.
I just keep taking every bit of you in,
and I smile
because I feel the golden heart you gave me
on my collarbone,
and I hear everything you said to me,
and I see that sandcastle
we watched drop into the sea,
and I know that now it’s my turn.
Author notes
Hmm. To say the very least.
A contest entry
- POETS SURVIVOR- Round Five, B by Poets Survivor 3.
1000 points, ended August 25, 2008, 4 entries
Honorable mention
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Advice is always appreciated!
Comments
1 - 11 of 11
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This poem is a beautiful complement to your villanelle. While that poem was more nostaglic and lighthearted, this one is more thought provoking. I felt a little let down by the ending. I was hoping for a stronger finish. Otherwise the imagery and emotion were wonderfully crafted. Continued success and peace, Liz
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Sorry for the slow response!
Thanks very much for your thoughtful comment
I know what you mean with the ending... it's quite personal, so I think it has more meaning for me than other people, that was just how I felt it ought to go
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Another excellent entry from your quill. Amazing emotion and imagery. This piece was vibrantly alive. I love your phrasing and the conversational flow. Beautiful write from start to finish. Hugs, Bunny
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Thank you!!!
And apologies for the slow reply... ^^;
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Wow, this is so absolutely rich in emotion. I was with you throughout. You've done a beautiful job going along with your excellent villanelle, and yet this one reaches deeper. The villanelle was mostly the "before" with a hint of the after, and this one is mostly the "after" with the lovely light touch of the "before." I love that line, "I dream of our beach." It is so simple, yet says so much about the heart's longing.
The internal rhyme, assonance/consonance requirements were met nicely. Nothing overdone. This had a nice conversational feel to it. Wonderfully written, Byrony.
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Thank you very much! And sorry for the stupidly slow reply... I will be organised someday. Alas, not today.
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There are places we all must go, faces we all must see. I was left uneasy in this poem, as if disbelief melted into images that finally presented acceptance.
Dying. Knowing it to accepting it and realizing one's own mortality in the course.
Your imagery is impeccable and I think you have used every sense there is known to man as I could not only see and smell the sea but I could taste the salt and felt the stale air in my lungs. Amazing work.
I love your subtle internal rhyme combined with assonance and soft alliteration. Quite well done and I will say extremely effective.
I did not get quite the same story / impression from the Villanelle and liked your free verse much better.
Great job here. Very well done poet. ~Pamela 
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Thank you for this. It helped me to understand and come to terms with my own poem more... if that makes any sense...
Mmm, old age was almost an afterthought in the villanelle, and I think my suggestions of the old age/illness may have only been clear to myself. Will work on it in future.
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Outstanding imagery, "breath bubbled...face grew a beard of tubes." Heart-tugging "But I can't look at you." Excellent descriptions of breathing difficulty, "crackle...rasping." Great ""your hand clasping at mine, skin rubbery like kelp" also ties in the beach memories perfectly. Outstanding descriptions convey the 'disconnect' we experience when a loved one presents, in grave illness, not the face we have always known, but a face that is somehow still then beneath. Lovely description of the passing of the torch of love and creativity, security and magic that will now be yours to pass on to a rising generation.
FREEVERSE
5/5 Understandability
5/5 Originality
4.5/5 Mirrors the story of the villanelle
5/5 Written as spoken language
2/5 Internal Rhyming used, and beneficially (who/you, thin/skin)
5/5 Assonance/Consonance, used and beneficially
5/5 Imagery used skillfully/beneficially
5/5 Emotion/Impact/General appeal
5/5 Line breaks done beneficially
5/5 Grammar and Punctuation
46.5/50 Total -
Great use of imagery. I can feel strong emotions in this piece. The final image of the sandcastle dropping into the sea just sticks in my mind. It says so much. Love how you use the word "drop".
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