I wish you'd forgotten Sunday
And cracked the glass of
The gilt picture frame
Depicting you; seven, red ribbon
Bruised knees.
Reflecting me, old, dungarees,
Shit taste.
I wish you'd cut your hair so short
That I could feel all the knobbles of your skull
And imagine how your smelled
Whilst we muddled through
Tripping over feigned cool
Clenched fingers at Communist rallies
"Statement" art: glitter glued condoms,
leopard skin and desecrated Manet prints
I don't know what kind of statement we were trying to make.
I love that you are able to grasp one of the biggest parts of poetry in this: emotion. It wasn't said blatantly, but you made a good point of it with proper word choice that suited the material you were writing about. For example, "clenched fingers" which signified anger, "reflecting me" which portrayed you looking back upon yourself. Really beautiful poem you have here Beth. :)
ReplyDeleteThanks so much for your lovely feedback, I think your work is excellent and I look forward to seeing more of it in the future :-)
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