03-27-2021, 01:57 AM
Welcome V.,
This is a fine poem, that's my first read reaction. It's also my response after reading it two or three more times. Good work. I do have some notes below on a couple of things, one large, one small:
There is a space
between my ears
that grows every day,
stretching itself like a ballerina's spine for me anyway, a ballerinas spine sticks in my mind as the wrong metaphor, for what follows
until your words, like sure darts,
find their homes.
Each word marinates in timid welcome
and flits behind my ear at night.
Each thought cowers in front of a question mark
until it hears you speak.
This space echoes
with your words, arriving like sirens,
paused only by a demand for a response
a demand for a response
but my tongue retreats into its cavern.
The words do not have lifespans--
they travel to the tremor in my fingers,
the ache in my temple,
prying my eyes open
on still nights---
swelling
until a scream erupts, an ebullition,
quaking with years of silence
disguised as hope. I watch as
it holds your gaze hostage.
Finally, I have a horizon
it stretches its arms wonderful ending!
I considered doing more line collapsing, but it reads just fine as it is to me.
This is a fine poem, that's my first read reaction. It's also my response after reading it two or three more times. Good work. I do have some notes below on a couple of things, one large, one small:
There is a space
between my ears
that grows every day,
stretching itself like a ballerina's spine for me anyway, a ballerinas spine sticks in my mind as the wrong metaphor, for what follows
until your words, like sure darts,
find their homes.
Each word marinates in timid welcome
and flits behind my ear at night.
Each thought cowers in front of a question mark
until it hears you speak.
This space echoes
with your words, arriving like sirens,
paused only by a demand for a response
a demand for a response
but my tongue retreats into its cavern.
The words do not have lifespans--
they travel to the tremor in my fingers,
the ache in my temple,
prying my eyes open
on still nights---
swelling
until a scream erupts, an ebullition,
quaking with years of silence
disguised as hope. I watch as
it holds your gaze hostage.
Finally, I have a horizon
it stretches its arms wonderful ending!
I considered doing more line collapsing, but it reads just fine as it is to me.