| Author | Message | ||
| steve
Moderator Username: twobyfour Post Number: 186 Registered: 05-2005 |
revised Undercover She lies on her side, full fetal, worms her skin into sheets as a river wears into its own canyon. Her knees buttress my back; she rises as a flood, uncloaks us, kisses the crevasse between my rib cage and hip—recovers, rewraps. Her father cradles her broken wrist in corrugated palms. They wait in the library, scrutinized by bindings of her books. Paramedics roll his body, blanket defended, through the hall. Dust collects on floors, counters, her diary. She cannot write on unruled paper, needs creases where flesh bends and folds. Television is conversation— language lapping banks of smooth silence. She props against pillows, shreds tissue like pulling petals from sunflowers. She unwinds, burrows to the hollow core of the roll, flings it aside, surprised by the absence of seeds. She sleeps on top of the covers, launders sheets each week, never exposes them once she’s insulated the bed. She would rather lift her own toenails than raise any thread of that fabric. Periods of wakefulness pepper each night. She soothes by tracing snakes on my back. I quiver as she stirs electron streams in my bare wires. Sometimes I’m awake, sometimes she wakes me. On the third anniversary of his death, she perches on the sofa—any bed feels liquid, able to drown; the quilted spread now her ocean bottom. Sixteen years they wore life preservers, streaming in the sea of diabetes. She could swim underwater but could not breathe, had never learned to crawl across the surface. Until that night, he kept her afloat. She pounds his chest, screams at her own imagination. He has burned out while she slept. They are both naked in the morning dark. Bedcovers litter the carpet like dust. She kisses my shoulder blade, whispers “how can you be real?” She sleeps naked on sex-damp linen. Tomorrow, she will hand wash them, cover the mattress, smooth the wrinkles, backstroke the place where he and I will lie. original She lies on her side, full fetal, worms her skin into sheets as a river wears into its own canyon. Her knees buttress my back; she rises as a flood, uncloaks us, kisses the crevasse between my rib cage and hip—recovers, rewraps. “I’m sorry ma’am we got your husband back for a few minutes but lost him again. That’s why we called for the Life Flight.” Paramedics roll his helpless body, blanket defended, through the hall. Dust collects on floors, counters, her diary. She cannot write on unruled paper, needs creases where flesh bends and folds. Television is conversation— language lapping banks of smooth silence. She props against pillows, shreds tissue like pulling petals from sunflowers. She unwinds, burrows to the hollow core of the roll, flings it aside, surprised by the absence of seeds. She sleeps on top of the covers, launders sheets each week, never exposes them once she’s insulated the bed. She would rather lift her own toenails than cut free any thread of that fabric. Periods of wakefulness pepper each night. She soothes by tracing snakes on my back. I quiver as she stirs electron streams in my bare wires. Sometimes I’m awake, sometimes she wakes me. On the third anniversary of his death, she perches on the sofa—any bed feels liquid, able to drown; the quilted spread now her ocean bottom. Fifteen years they wore life preservers, streaming in the sea of diabetes. She could swim underwater but could not breathe, had never learned to crawl across the surface. Until now, he kept her afloat. She pounds his chest, screams at her own imagination. He has burned out while she slept. They are both naked in the morning dark. Bedcovers litter the carpet like dust. She kisses my shoulder blade, whispers “how can you be real?” She sleeps naked on sex-damp linen. Tomorrow, she will hand wash them, cover the mattress, smooth the wrinkles, backstroke the place where he and I will lie. | ||
| LJ Cohen
Moderator Username: ljc Post Number: 3141 Registered: 07-2002 |
Steve, This is very intense. The piece moved me deeply. I will come back to give some specific crits tomorrow, after I have digested it, but I wanted to tell you how much the piece touched me. Best, ljc http://ljcbluemuse.blogspot.com/ | ||
| Morgan Lafay
Intermediate Member Username: morganlafay Post Number: 552 Registered: 08-2005 |
This piece is so (and I say it strongly) awesome. The visions it pulled up. Sad, pathetic, awesome. I don't have the words except I felt/feel deeply moved. | ||
| Gary Blankenship
Senior Member Username: garyb Post Number: 5226 Registered: 07-2001 |
Steve, for the short list, perhaps the top. Strong, good sympathy for the protags. Be pleased. Gary The Eye of the Coming Storm http://www.mindfirerenew.com/ | ||
| Bren
Advanced Member Username: bren Post Number: 1125 Registered: 12-2001 |
Steve, I can't help thinking I've read this or something similar before but you've changed and added. It's a very good read but I think I miss the cat. LOL Does that make sense or am I just having a Deja Vu moment that's unrelated to your poem? I did say I was in the Twilight Zone at work but I didn't think it followed me home...  Bren PenShells | ||
| Penelope
Intermediate Member Username: penelope Post Number: 329 Registered: 07-2005 |
Steve, very moving, indeed. I love the layering. Because this is headed for the big time I will risk being a nag and remind you it should be "She lies on her side." I'm sorry I can't help myself. Penelope | ||
| steve williams
Moderator Username: twobyfour Post Number: 192 Registered: 05-2005 |
Hi Lisa, thx for taking the time last night. this one kinda wrote itself, the process was surreal--being inside a piece and outside a piece all at the same time. Morgan, thank you for your response. all i can ever hope for is to create a piece that draws on a readers emotions, thx for letting me know. Gary very happy to see this works well for you. i was wondering if perhaps too much in this short of a piece. thought it might be better if longer with some breathing spots for the reader, but then decided to simplify a bit and shorten. so this is that version. thx again Bren well you're half right  the italics came from an earlier piece with the same title, but i've changed those as well. the normal text is all new. as for the cat, well that's in a piece called 'resurrections' which is about the same two people but talks about motel rooms, do not disturb signs and liver transplants etc. (btw that piece was in last month's stirring) so you are not crazy, a real deju vu s | ||
| steve williams
Moderator Username: twobyfour Post Number: 193 Registered: 05-2005 |
Hi penelope well, i originally had 'lies' but then microsoft word said it should be 'lays', so i looked it up in Harbrace and the example they use is 'he lay there' which doesn't really help because that is a past tense use of lie... so back to the book and a refresher on verb objects. since i have 'on her side' that gets dicey because is that really an object or is the implied object 'her body' if the implied object is 'her body' then 'lie' is correct, if 'on her side' can be considered an object then 'lay'... ok so i'm losing it now LOL anyhow, off to do more research, thx for pointing that out s | ||
| steve williams
Moderator Username: twobyfour Post Number: 194 Registered: 05-2005 |
Hi Penelope ok, I'm changing it back to lies. I guess those computer guys up in seattle didn't take too much grammar huh? LOL s | ||
| Penelope
Intermediate Member Username: penelope Post Number: 330 Registered: 07-2005 |
You're soooo cute. I'm trying not to laugh at your struggle.  It's quite the pesky problem. But never fear, Penelope's here. I'll make sure you all get this right for the publishers. You guys work on the hard stuff. I'll keep my eye on "lie" and "lay" edits. (Message edited by Penelope on October 19, 2005) Penelope | ||
| LJ Cohen
Moderator Username: ljc Post Number: 3145 Registered: 07-2002 |
Steve, Sorry it's taken me so long to return to this. Some crits for your consideration: She lies on her side, full fetal, worms her skin into sheets as a river wears into its own canyon. Her knees buttress my back; she rises as a flood, uncloaks us, kisses the crevasse between my rib cage and hip—recovers, rewraps. 'worms her skin into sheets/as a river wears. . .' <--it feels like there are too many attempted metaphors here, Steve. While I like the way you used the linebreaks to shift the image, it feels a little awkard to read. Love the 'buttress my back', especially with 'crevasse' close by. Nice. Great sound crevass/rewraps “I’m sorry ma’am we got your husband back for a few minutes but lost him again. [That’s why we called for the Life Flight.]” Paramedics roll his helpless body, blanket defended, through the hall. Not sure the bracketed sentence adds to the sense of the poem. Blanket defended--excellent phrase. Dust collects on floors, counters, her diary. She cannot write on unruled paper, needs creases where flesh bends and folds. <--wonderful, original image here. Television is conversation— language lapping banks of smooth silence. <--this is not as clear or crisp to me She props against pillows, shreds tissue like pulling petals like petals pulled from sunflowers. She unwinds, burrows to the hollow core of the roll, <--tissues don't come in a roll--makes me think of toilet paper, if that's what you intended. flings it aside, surprised by the absence of seeds. <--nice return to the flower image She sleeps on top of the covers, launders sheets each week, never exposes them once she’s insulated the bed. She would rather lift her own toenails <--maybe a stronger verb for 'lift'? than cut free any thread of that fabric. <--nice--evokes the fates and their thread Periods of wakefulness pepper each night. She soothes by tracing snakes on my back. I quiver as she stirs electron streams in my bare wires. Sometimes I’m awake, sometimes she wakes me. <--perfection! On the third anniversary of his death, she perches on the sofa—any bed feels liquid, able to drown; the quilted spread now her ocean bottom. <--lovely Fifteen years they wore life preservers, streaming in the sea of diabetes. She could swim underwater <--?a diabetic sea? but could not breathe, had never learned to crawl across the surface. Until now, he kept her afloat. <--the now is three years ago, yes? A little confusing She pounds his chest, screams at her own imagination. He has burned out while she slept. They are both naked in the morning dark. Bedcovers litter the carpet like dust. <--strong stanza--like a punch to the gut She kisses my shoulder blade, whispers “how can you be real?” She sleeps naked on sex-damp linen. Tomorrow, she will hand wash them, cover the mattress, smooth the wrinkles, backstroke the place where he and I will lie. <--he and I both lie? Very powerful ending. I hope something in my comments will be useful, Steve. best, ljc http://ljcbluemuse.blogspot.com/ | ||
| steve williams
Moderator Username: twobyfour Post Number: 201 Registered: 05-2005 |
Hi Lisa hey, all feedback is useful. I'm thinking on a new title right now, also, considering whether to take out the second stanza entirely. I'll be sure and add your thoughts to the list as I revise. thx much for your thoughts and time spent. s | ||
| Emusing
Moderator Username: emusing Post Number: 2012 Registered: 08-2003 |
I read the poem and then considered it without S2. I think it removes the "tell" element and gives more integrity to the whole. Lisa has done a lion's share of advices. I'm very happy to just read and appreciate this one. E | ||
| Hari Kumar
New member Username: hari Post Number: 16 Registered: 10-2005 |
This is absolutely BRILLIANT! So terribly intense! Really really good! Thanks, Hari My personal website-www.harismind.com My blog |
