Wet

[Todd]

Hi CarrieChristo,

I tend to not comment on poems like this (irregular with a lot of rhyme). I find myself at odds. On the one hand I think force it all into a pattern on the other hand, I get a sense of rhythm from it that I like and I organically want to leavie that aspect of it alone. I'm going with leave it alone and comment within the style it sets. Others may have different sensibilities and I'll let them comment accordingly.

All that aside, while I like the cadence of it. It does feel that it could be tightened. It also has some rhymes and areas that feel a bit forced to me--or I at least don't think they work. Here goes.

 

Wet--I'm mixed on the title. Simple isn't bad but in this case it doesn't add a whole lot and feels like more of a placeholder.

When the clouds came--opening feels like it could be cut without hurting much. Rain implies clouds but may not need to establish them.
The rain moaned down as sheets--moaned is interesting. Sheets is a pretty common way to describe rain.
Severed sidewalks, filled their pleats--severed sidewalks is a good way to describe flooding but I'm having a hard time seeing pleats here. I get where you are going but it feels more used for the rhyme than a description you've really earned.
Made the aspens kiss the streets--this on the other hand is lovely.
Then licked my skin.--sensual and nice addition.
In the coolness of the storm --feels like filler you could cut.
I swear you said “Come in.”
From the cobwebs of the closet--like the alliteration.
You ducked and plucked your boots
Put them on my feet
Tied the laces neat.--outside of dockers most boots don't have laces. This is a minor stumble on that point and makes it feel like neat exists for the rhyme and nothing more.
We walked hand-in-hand down asphalt
Mined street signs for their cobalt--is cobalt really in street signs. Again I like the above line, and I do like the sound of it all but if eels a bit forced. Whie there is a potential possibility for neat above with docker style boots. I can't see this sort of mining. 
Pressed the words into our tongues--like this line a lot.
Ignoring dust may clog our lungs--be better if you could establish the dust a bit more earlier cobwebs are a start may need one more earlier element.
Embraced the pelting sleet.

And in the eve of greater promise--line feels like filler and could probably be cut.
You watched me dance.
Winking at the sky
It left you in a trance--the previous line probably needs to establish this or it will feel a bit too forced.
It was then that you decided
We must be horribly misguided
So you searched the merchants
For umbrellas and  warm sweaters--the plural sweaters probably needs to be sinular for a cleaner sounding rhyme.
To protect us from the weather
My titled chin thought she knew better
But if we still glide puddles together--lovely phrasing with this line.
I’ll give it a chance.
I blame
The drunken stupor of romance --chance/romance feels a bit forced from the puddle line something else maybe.
Because as the walk-signs started running--this is expressed well.
And the buildings turned to towers--maybe singular as building turned to tower
I felt the overbearing power
Of a girl singing in the shower
When the lights go out.
And the water runs cold.
And the songs turn into screaming
While she’s panicking for meaning
Learning warmth is merely fleeting-this entire progression from shower to fleeting is one of the better content riffs in the poem. I suspect that the heart of the poem is this existential observation. The poem might actually be this tight observation of the futility of meaning and fleeting warmth. You could potentially savagely condense it all down. Just a thought.
And objects that welcome water turn to mold.

Believe the lies you’re told
And you’ll wince as his hands
Quickly start to fold
Around umbrella grips
That he gave you to hold--a bit clunky here
And before your eyes find anger
They find emptiness and shock--these two lines are too telling stay with the imagery not the interpretation.
So uncontrolled.
He leaves now without looking back
And while you never ask for comfort
This somehow feels like attack
And you’re unconsoled.
Perched under the parkway
Sprouting mold--looses some steam in this stanza.
 

I hope some of that will be helpful to you.

Best,

Todd