Divisions

[Oden Prufrock]

The

Divisions

After the catastrophe I sat

in strained communion, alone with my father;

nibbling toasted pain de mie,

choking down bottles of inexpensive wine,

and muttering a few prayers

for comfort.

I woke early the next morning,

nestled in a dusty quilt,

scrunched atop my window seat.

The oak outside was lightning-struck

- the pillar split to the roots, limbs bent askew.

It’s nests were void of sparrows;

with no nourishment, no shelter, no comfort,

I guess it no longer felt like home.

Original:

Divisions

After the catastrophe I sat
in strained communion with my father.
We nibbled toasted pain de mie,
choked down bottles of inexpensive wine,
and muttered a few prayers
for comfort.

I woke early the next morning,
nestled in a dusty quilt,
scrunched atop my window seat.
The oak outside was lightning-struck
- the pillar split to the roots, limbs bent askew.
It’s nests were void of sparrows;
with no nourishment, no shelter, no comfort,
I guess it no longer felt like home.

I like how the lightning’s randomness could offer subtle context on the catastrophe as being something out of the blue and intense but just call it something. Could you remove the “I guess” part of the last line? Also trying continuing it for a bit, I don’t like the ending.

7/10