Hedged In

[Sparkydashforth]

Hi Lizziep,

I have cribbed all of your S1 rewrite. Yes, it's much better now!
Thanks.
　
I have also put up the first edit of this, and added a line to S3 to try and clarify where I shift from animal to
elderly female human.

In this poem my aim is to shift from one sentient creature to another
as they co-habitat the same backyard, and suburban environment.
That kind of meld has always appealed to me, not to anthropomorphize
critters, and not to devalue the human experience, but to illustrate the shared
lives as they live alongside each other.
　
Thanks again for this.

Hey Sparky. A couple of thoughts for you on this one.

They are under the hedge,
the silver whiskered – threadbare possums,
frail chipmunks. The feeble
squeezed into narrow parts of the day. -- in order to make the grammar of this sentence work, you have to read squeezed as the primary verb in past tense which clashes with the present tense of the rest of the poem. I'd rewrite:

They are under the hedge: the silver
whiskered, threadbare possums,
frail chipmunks -- (only, make this an em-dash)
the feeble squeezed
into narrow parts of the day.


A stout groundhog comes out to gaze at the sunset,
some myopic sniffing, then shuffles back
with that rolling arthritic gait of his.

She forages in her apartment. -- there is a sudden gender shift. Presumably you're talking about a pair of groundhogs, sort of a husband and wife, but you leave off with he and begin with she. It reads like a mistake.
From a window she blinks at the moon, -- dash or semi-colon?
only yesterday it slipped from her purse.
She ferrets deeper -- like ferrets since you're talking about groundhogs
into thickets of uncertainty.

The young used to visit.
Pups suckled fat pink nipples.
They used to proudly park new automobiles
under watchful windows.

We are settled, tucked into socks and housecoats.
Frail hands open kitchen cupboards,
seek foods
unprepared for the present.
Pills pend under bedroom lamps.
Paws scratch dependent itches.

Some of us are under the hedgerow,
some silent under the roofs of our mouths.
We unsnarl tangled quilts,
or snuffle at a nub-end of twilight.

We will all go quietly -- intentional play on the Dylan Thomas poem? I like.
no fuss, just us.

I like the moving back and forth between human scenario and groundhog existence. However, I believe that you are flirting with sentimentality in parts, and wouldn't go any farther in that direction.

Hope this helps,

lizziep