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Friday, October 3, 2008

Blind Review Friday

Blind Review Friday.

The author shall remain anonymous (unless they chose to divulge themselves in the comments.)

Those commenting are also welcome to remain anonymous if they wish.

Incendiary comments will be removed.

If you would like your piece thrown to the wolves send it to salinger@ameritech.net with "Workshop the hell out of this poem" as the subject line.


Our pile is currently empty - so please send in a piece you'd like to see featured.


Membrane

A red slipper
footless
under the stool.
A red towel
molted to the floor.
The damp breath
of shampoo
still hanging
in the air.
The clock
drips its seconds
into the sink,
one by one,
by one,
by one;
counting the long pulse
when you are away.
The bathroom
is never empty of you,
like a skin
hung open,
moist,
warm,
waiting
for your bones
to arrive.




10 comments:

Anonymous said...

I'm always weary about using the word breath,

'The damp breath
of shampoo
still hanging
in the air.'

but I read it again, and it works for this poem. You can feel the senses being portrayed.

'like skin hung open'

creepy! I think of that Body Works show that came through Cleveland a couple of years ago where they had all those real body parts displayed.

but it's true, it is warm and moist inside of our bodies.

nice poem!

-tg

Anonymous said...

I love this piece. So much said in so few words. The short lines make sure every point hits home. I think it's lovely.

Pinky P said...

I like this poem. The language is subtly medical enough to connect it to the title which at first threw me.

The only issue I have is rather prosaic in that I question the image of a clock in a bathroom.

Do many people have clocks in their bathrooms? I don't and I don't recall seeing many, but I could be wrong.

I love the image of the clock dripping seconds into the sink but for that to happen it would need to be over the mirror, light, etc. (Too much thinking in scenes and settings here...)

Other than that, very good.

Anonymous said...

the author says;
I get your point, pinky. I see how that might throw you, but as it happens, in this bathroom, there is a clock (my wife would never get to work on time if there weren't) and it is above the sink and mirror. What was easy for me to visualize was not so easy for my reader. It never dawned on me. tb

Geoffrey A. Landis said...

wow, it's a good point Pinky makes... I'll have to say, though, that I love the lines about the clock dripping its seconds into the sink; it worked for me.

I'll agree, though, that for the space of those lines I had mentally left the bathroom for the kitchen

Jesus Crisis said...

Well done! ;) I would like to include it in the Crisis Chronicles Online Library. If the author is interested, please feel free to e-mail me: jc@crisischronicles.com.

Dianne said...

This poem really sucked me in and grabbed me, and I could actually smell the shampoo and feel the dampness when I read it. I especially like the final lines:
"The bathroom
is never empty of you,
like a skin
hung open,
moist,
warm,
waiting
for your bones
to arrive."
When I looked at the title again, I realized it was perfect for the poem. Kudos... would love to read more from this poet!

Anonymous said...

I love this poem. My only suggestion is to drop the lines "by one, by one", as they seem repetitive in an unnecessary way.

By the way, I have always had a clock in my bathroom, for the same reason your wife does.

michael salinger said...

i agree with losing that repetition. I'd suggest cutting those lines completely.

drips its seconds
into the sink
counting
the
long
pulse
when you are away.

Jesus Crisis said...

I'm not sure. I think cutting those lines would still leave us with a fine (and one could argue tighter and leaner) poem. But I very much like how the "one by one" lines make the ticking/dripping more tangible, even audible, and cause the reader to become more conscious of the very wetness and passing of time the poem describes.

Cited...

The poet doesn't invent. He listens. ~Jean Cocteau