This has been brooding for a week...finally expelled it from my system. Haven't found a title. Gargle.
Impatience laps like a dog.
The poem waits line by
line, crosses the street
and gulps watery coffee.
In the mirror the song
puts finger to strings,
admires its low bodiless
register.
listen to this -
word on skin
Languages you speak spill
onto pavement and
ruin my shoes,
my direction
of sense.
1 comment:
mabel, this is so beautiful. i was sort of shocked at how wonderfully taut this poem is- so direct and forceful. it really strikes me every time i read it.
the punctuation is great in illustrating the snapping impatience of the lines. i love the force in the first line, set aside by itself. the break between "crosses the street" and "gulps watery coffee" is illustrative and rhythmic.
the impatience is carried all the way through, to "listen to this--." reading this, i felt also a profound sense of restlessness (discontent, even). it's as if the speaker is watching something beautiful and is able to only catch bits of it.
i also loved the haunting images of languages spilling out of mouths like blood or bile, that a word is something which leaves a mark, the dyslexia in the final 2 lines.
i really like how you've been able to marry your mastery of portraying images with such a beautifully controlled form.
let's talk more about this when you get home
Post a Comment