7 hours ago
Hi Bitnee,
This is a tender and poignant account that deserves so much more compression. There is a lot of expository cruft that mutes the emotional impact of the poetic gesture.
For instance, what if something more like:
I was three, maybe
four.
I can’t remember
the color of the car.
I can’t remember where
we were going, only the smell:
sweet bubblegum
mixed with a hint of cigarettes, and you
looking back at me
every now and then,
checking on me. I don’t know why
this is the memory that found me.
I remembered it just hours after
you were gone. Your son kissed your forehead,
his gut-wringing cries filled the room
my family sat in, waiting, around your bed.
Bubblegum
comforts me and tears me open
all at once, because
as soon as it hits my nose,
I am three years old.
And you’re still here.
This is a tender and poignant account that deserves so much more compression. There is a lot of expository cruft that mutes the emotional impact of the poetic gesture.
For instance, what if something more like:
I was three, maybe
four.
I can’t remember
the color of the car.
I can’t remember where
we were going, only the smell:
sweet bubblegum
mixed with a hint of cigarettes, and you
looking back at me
every now and then,
checking on me. I don’t know why
this is the memory that found me.
I remembered it just hours after
you were gone. Your son kissed your forehead,
his gut-wringing cries filled the room
my family sat in, waiting, around your bed.
Bubblegum
comforts me and tears me open
all at once, because
as soon as it hits my nose,
I am three years old.
And you’re still here.