Between bath-towels and clean sheets

[Todd]

Hi Johnny, 

I've read the previous revisions but will confine my comments to the latest version.

The first thing I would look at is your use of each individual line. Look at each in isolation and ask yourself: 1) how interesting or evocative they are 2) what is the end word on each line and how does it apply to your themes, or put another way are you ending your lines on throwaway words?

To me, you seem to be making line breaks by feel and not maximizing their purpose. I'll comment on some lines below, but structurally this is the biggest issue I have with your poem.

Revision#2

Between bath-towels and clean sheets


When granny died--died is a good end word. The line itself though feels a bit clipped and choppy for an opener. Maybe build the thought out a bit more (example: I was fifteen when granny died,
I was fifteen she not quite sixty,--sixty adds little as a word to break on  (breaking on young or go would probably be better)
so young to go in this day
and age, though that--day and age is cliched phrasing and should probably be dropped. Breaking on that is one of those throwaway breaks I was talking about. 
was thirteen years ago
come May.--I'm not trying to be pedantic but this is in intensive so: these two lines don't do enough to justify themselves. The content is not the main issue it's simply that they don't have enough weight to stand alone.
Not sure of the day, if you’d ask ma
she’d know. Guess I couldn’t bear
to see Granny crumpled up
like a sick person, a--watch the line breaks on words like "a" 
woman of great
presence until then.

Instead,--same with instead. It can't hold the line. 
we played cricket that day,
me and my pals and when we
became too tired we sat and wolfed down
Ham and cheese sandwiches, with cans of--most of this section up to this point seems like filler. There should be more focus this comes across as rambling up to sandwiches. 
bass shandy, bitter on the tongue.--bitter on the tongue is a nice bit as there's a bitterness to the memory
For afters, pears picked from Granny’s tree
and ripened in her airing cupboard
between bath towels and
clean sheets, while

Ma sat with Da and Granda
and her sister, my Aunt.
Counting down the seconds
in tears unspent, Granny’s death
played out to raised voices,
ignorant of the fact that the ears
are the last thing to go.--This strophe is the strongest section in the poem for me. I don't like the line break on Aunt, but beyond that this part feels more thematically right. This feels like the essence of the poem you're attempting to write. 
 
Auntie didn’t like Ma
and blamed her
for Granny’s death,
like Ma had some sort of power
over the cancer.

While Da fetched cups of tea
cold by the time the anger was spent,
and all the while bemused, Granda
sat praying.

To who?
At this point who cared?

“WHO?
GAVE A FLYING FUCK, WHERE
HER SALVATION CAME
FROM RIGHT NOW?”

as her hand in his grew
colder to the touch, although
she’d always had cold hands,
wishing that’d they could hav...

I can’t say why this
has come to mind  
thirteen years on
come May,--same comment on the repetition of these two lines.  
but I’d wager eating pears is
what does it.

No longer picked from
Granny’s tree
but still ripened
in the airing cupboard
between bath-towels
and clean sheets.--All of this from Ma sat with Da to the end feels like what your poem wants to be. There's this idea that we write until we get to the poem. I think that's what you've done here. Now, it's your work and just my opinion. So, follow your own instincts.

I hope these comments help some.

Best,

Todd