After Seven Years

[71degrees]

She hears him lift another can,
pour the beer into a tall glass [/b]I like the use of "beer" here. Grounding, real, and resonates in me.
as sure as her key slips into a lock.

She dislikes this plastic paradise
of comb and mirror, the thickening [/b]great stanza, the line break for me was brilliant.
scars, the courted sleep.

Arguments are all her mind recalls lately:
the fists, the remedy afterward. She does
remember an August marriage, his dark Yet another great line break[b]
good looks. And now sitting beside this bed
of snow, the room is a jail cell. Outside
her window, on a thin black telephone wire,
is a mourning dove with her mother's eyes.

(previewing my post I see I do not have the "bold" button down yet, but I think you get the picture, well, I hope.)

"a" lock, for me, tells me there is more than one lock that can be open. "the" lock, for me, would indicate this would be the only issue they have which is obviously not the case as I kept reading. So, to this I think "a" works far better. "the thickening" line break stanza is wonderful. It gave me a sense of time and capacity for her endurance. The ending stanza line break really hit for me, "his dark" leaves a sticky residue of him on me, and then slaps me back to "good looks". This, I believe, is her jail cell. The ending poignant lines are wonderful. I have read this over and over looking for some critique for you. But I can only see her in her room with a despondent stare outside her window. "Mothers eye" is such great imagery. I wish I could offer more, but I am now in this house and can't see much further than her. Thank you for allowing me to stay with her awhile.

Thanks for the comments about line breaks. Reinforces my intentions. A bit warmer here than 68degrees.

---

She hears him lift another can,
pour the beer into a tall glass
as sure as her key slips into a lock.

She dislikes this plastic paradise
of comb and mirror, the thickening
scars, the courted sleep.

Arguments are all her mind recalls lately:
the fists, the remedy afterward. She does
remember an August marriage, his dark
good looks. And now sitting beside this bed
of snow, the room is a jail cell. Outside
her window, on a thin black telephone wire,
is a mourning dove with her mother's eyes.

well! i loved the first two stanzas. if you were to keep the poem to

She hears him lift another can,
pour the beer into a tall glass
as sure as her key slips into a lock.

She dislikes this plastic paradise
of comb and mirror, the thickening
scars.

I would have loved it. And if you would have hinted at the situation you're describing in the title, well! I don't like the last stanza, it is too obvious, too intentional, ideally, you should have the reader going through all that on their own.

Interesting comments. Mulling time. Thanks.