06-12-2014, 11:41 AM
(06-11-2014, 10:35 PM)ChristopherSea Wrote: MurderChris,
The suspect
had been spotted
around the neighborhood in the past
coming for others,
but it was our season now.
Nights were busy
dilating, growing icicles
as perfect murder weapons.
Death came to our home
on stilts, peered through
our frosted bedroom
window and saw: that kisses
leave tiny bruises which amass
until the kissing stops;
that we went to bed
in mute silence, slept dreamless;
that we were not conscious
of how to love without killing
ourselves in the process. Death offered
autonomy, a nascent leaf,
an algal bloom of possibilities. < I don't think this metaphor adds anything to the poem>
Foul play
was eventually uncovered
in late morning when authorities
dragged the pond
behind the house and discovered
the missing bodies
of our hollow wedding vows.
Seems like a sort of long way to go for a punch line, although it is a good one. A lot of this poem does not seem to contribute to the narrative, it could probably be trimmed a fair amount.
The extended metaphor is more or less solid, but it wouldn't hurt to make it more overt. Overall it is a good idea, but falls down a bit on the execution.
Dale
How long after picking up the brush, the first masterpiece?
The goal is not to obfuscate that which is clear, but make clear that which isn't.
The goal is not to obfuscate that which is clear, but make clear that which isn't.