Puzzle Pieces

[Wjames]

I'm looking for feedback on this - first poem I have written in several months, feeling a bit rusty. Fire away!


Puzzle Pieces (hoping for an alternate title)


I’ve been sitting here for hours now,

right foot falling asleep under the weight of my left thigh,

toes twitching with a need to stand up

that I can’t seem to answer.

My bones quiver, my collarbone shifts,

my ribs creak and my spine lifts itself

away from the muscle that binds me to the floor,

winding its way up my back and keeping my head upright

as it turns toward the window once more

and sighs, not audibly,

but still heavily, as if it’s done this

one too many times. I can feel the frustration and lack of control in this sentence, but I can't understand/paint a picture of what's actually supposed to be going on.

The curtain whispers in my ear,

the single-paned window rattles softly

against my knuckles, and my fingers move

like the legs of a spider as he drops from the ceiling

and makes his way down to the floor. I don't think you need "down" here. I think you're describing searching behind a couch or something for a missing puzzle piece, but I could be wrong.

I describe my body slowly, from head to toe

and back again,

as if doing this will make it real,

as if taking control of my image could somehow

give me control of my life, of my movement,

and of my thoughts. It does feel like this sentence is where the meat of the poem really starts.

I describe my body as if from outside,

as if from above, as if I were a puzzle You use "as if" 5 times in a short span, you could change some of them if you want to.


to be solved, to be broken and made whole

again and again, until pieces begin to disappear

behind the furniture, and frustration appears in the spaces

left by those small fractions of me that meant nothing much

until they were gone.

You weren’t just one of those pieces.

You were the straight edge, the corners,

the definition and the safety

that finished this puzzle and kept those wayward parts

from escaping into the dust and dirt. I don't think you need "the".

You were the last piece, the satisfaction,

the beginning and the end, the metaphor

for sanity that made all too much sense to me

as this description of my body fades into the darkness

of my mind and those puzzle pieces are lost to me in the cracks I like this line better without "to me".

while you are lost to me in the real world

and I am coming apart, piece by piece,

swallowed by the furniture and the grass,

the concrete and the rushing water I think you could cut the four "the's" here.

and the wind that pulled my hair from my face

as I kissed you good-bye

as if to say,

“Make this perfect,

just in case.” Great ending.

I think it's a really good poem, but the first three sentences do seem a little bit long to me. They do set-up the atmosphere of frustration nicely, but I think you could cut some of it out without really taking much away from the poem. Aside from that, the only nits I have are little things that might tidy up the poem a bit.

Potential Titles:

Beneath the Couch

Caked in Dust

Incomplete