Spring, 2012

[rowens]

I was coming out of my backdoor on Easter afternoon
and saw you out of the corner of my eye,
about to open the gate of my chain link fence.
I enjoyed the sudden shock,
and the strange dichotomy of your black skirt
and pale skin amongst so much brightness.
You glib, new age, goth girl.

Last year on this day,
you were wearing nothing but purple.
A tight little springtime number
that went well with your pale skin
and blackish brown hair.

Your mother was making you go to church.
If you were my daughter, I wouldn't
let you wear that to church.
If you were my daughter,
I'd be in jail.

There was a heavy breeze that afternoon,
unlike this one.
I watched you spray yourself down with
sun spray, or bug spray, or something;
the wind pressing that tight thing you were wearing
against your body.
If I'd seen that only out of the corner of my eye,
I might have sworn your ass was purple.

You're glazed in the sunlight.
There's something about your skin
when it's sticky with sweat. Or
lotion, or whatever you were spraying
that day...

It makes me suffer just to think of it.
The heat off your snow white flesh:
I'd touch myself to the grease of your pores,
the blemishes on your face.

That day, in the purple,
you bent over to dig some candy
out of the back seat of your car.
I watched you wiggle;
as you backed up into my hardness
with the same nonchalance you always showed.

You knew you could have me whenever you wanted.
But for you, I'd have to wait,
and go through hoops of shit
for as long as you needed.

You owned the hoop of shit
that pleased me most.

That was the year you were about to move
in with the other man.
And I knew he was plying you to go to work
for him at his electronic cigarette kiosk
in the mall.
So I bought you every pack of Newports
at the country store by my house.

You could never make it through the 100s,
so you passed them to me;
and I savored your lip glossed butts.

Now, you are working there.
You have a new blanket in the back seat,
instead of candy for me.
I know in your new house,
you and he will share it this autumn
when it gets cold.

But will we still be sharing you?

[Brownlie]

I read one of your poems in the spotlight the hogs section and it was pretty damn good. After reading a lot of poems on this website I can see that you've got some real talent.


I was coming out of my backdoor on Easter afternoon
and saw you out of the corner of my eye,
about to open the gate of my chain length fence. -- I think the term is chain link
I enjoyed the sudden shock,
and the strange dichotomy of your black skirt
and pale skin amongst so much brightness.
You glib, new age, goth girl.

Last year on this day,
you were wearing nothing but purple.
A tight little springtime number
that went well with your pale skin
and blackish brown hair.

Your mother was making you go to church.
If you were my daughter, I wouldn't
let you wear that to church.
If you were my daughter,
I'd be in jail.

There was a heavy breeze that afternoon,
unlike this one.
I watched you spray yourself down with
sun spray, or bug spray, or something; -- I'm not sure if you need something here but I suppose it adds some tone
the wind pressing that tight thing you were wearing
against your body.
If I'd seen that only out of the corner of my eye,
I might have sworn your ass was purple.

You're glazed in the sunlight.
There's something about your skin
when it's sticky with sweat. Or
lotion, or whatever you were spraying
that day...

It makes me suffer just to think of it.
The heat off your snow white flesh:
I'd touch myself to the grease of your pores,
the blemishes on your face. -- Well your being honest

That day, in the purple,
you bent over to dig some candy
out of the back seat of your car.
I watched you wiggle;
as you backed up into my hardness
with the same nonchalance you always showed.

You knew you could have me whenever you wanted.
But for you, I'd have to wait,
and go through hoops of shit -- hoops of shit is a bit vague
for as long as you needed.

You owned the hoop of shit
that pleased me most.

That was the year you were about to move
in with the other man.
And I knew he was plying you to go to work
for him at his electronic cigarette kiosk
in the mall. --This detail is great I used to work at the mall until I get fired for acting like an idiot.
So I bought you every pack of Newports
at the country store by my house. --This stanza is the best one for me.
You could never make it through the 100s,
so you passed them to me;
and I savored your lip glossed butts. - A Pun?

Now, you are working there.
You have a new blanket in the back seat,
instead of candy for me.
I know in your new house,
you and he will share it this autumn
when it gets cold.

But will we still be sharing you? - Not so sure we need this question at the end but I write that tennuously.

There are some great parts to this poem. Your stanzas and lines that included concrete details were the strongest parts. There are things the poets in school never write about I'm glad to see you writing about things that pertain to the present. Post more poems I enjoy reading them.

[rowens]

Jumping through hoops isn't exactly right to say in this instance; but that's what I have in mind.

Whether or not I should change the chain length, I don't know yet. It seems to be a bastardisation, since when you go to the flea market or hardware store around here there are signs that say "Chain length" for sale. That's what happens when you live in a town where you buy stuff advertised on cardboard signs drawn with magic marker.

[Brownlie]

Jumping through hoops isn't exactly right to say in this instance; but that's what I have in mind.

Whether or not I should change the chain length, I don't know yet. It seems to be a bastardisation, since when you go to the flea market or hardware store around here there are signs that say "Chain length" for sale. That's what happens when you live in a town where you buy stuff advertised on cardboard signs drawn with magic marker.

I feel you could better represent jumping through hoops by including actions that the jumping through hoops is referring to. However, you may want to keep an informal tone that includes the idiom of the place you're representing. As for the chain length/link I think adding the detail about the card board signs that say chain length or perhaps you could simply put "chain length" in quotes to show that that is what they called it. Take my advice for what you will I suppose.

[rowens]

I'll probably make it "link". On one hand, I have a lot of things I've been working on that's embracing the local ways. That's an advantage, I guess; because anyone that seriously wants to write would leave this place as soon as possible, so I have a subject no one else cares for. On the other hand, I spent some of my younger days hating the way people talk here. This is one of those places where people pronounce the "l" in "salmon" and other things of that nature.

Or maybe I'll use "link" for general purposes, and resort to "length" when the location is more specific.

---

Speaking of specific: people don't say "specific" here, they say, "pacific". And, yes, they say "pacifically" too.

[Brownlie]

I'll probably make it "link". On one hand, I have a lot of things I've been working on that's embracing the local ways. That's an advantage, I guess; because anyone that seriously wants to write would leave this place as soon as possible, so I have a subject no one else cares for. On the other hand, I spent some of my younger days hating the way people talk here. This is one of those places where people pronounce the "l" in "salmon" and other things of that nature.

Or maybe I'll use "link" for general purposes, and resort to "length" when the location is more specific.

---

Speaking of specific: people don't say "specific" here, they say, "pacific". And, yes, they say "pacifically" too.

realist writers focused on specific dialects.