The Clinic - Draft 2

[Stephanie]

Deleted

[ellajam]

Hi, Steph, I'll be back with crit when I've read this some more, but I think you did a really good job here, you tell the story well and in a interesting way.

from a red phone box like a spy or a superhero
desperate to change into something magical.

Beautifully clear.

[Erthona]

But the clinic for me and when they spit me.

Yes, but what is the story? I dislike poems that are all innuendo and no substance. Just from the title one would think abortion clinic, but "The appointment is my first chance to tell, where I learn entire words are missing from my vocabulary" doesn't jive with that, nor does "a carving knife dicing its way through" which is not what usually happens with a D&C. However whatever happened, happened to the lower extremities "the sting of walking cripples less than the ache of my closed mouth." I have no idea what to make of "where I learn entire words are missing from my vocabulary" and "the ache of my closed mouth". Unless he speaker has been raped and is still in shock. Something tells me that maybe this is not the case. Such phrases do more to confuse than enlighten "The pain is the same", the same as what?

The writing is clear enough, however what the writing says is anything but.



Dale

[ChristopherSea]

The Clinic

Attending the clinic is the closest I get to comfort.
I find the number in a teen magazine, make the call

from a red phone box like a spy or a superhero
desperate to change into something magical.

The appointment is my first chance to tell, where I learn
entire words are missing from my vocabulary.

Still the women sits, listens, takes note of me.
I cherish the moment knowing beyond the white walls

there is no one to hear this broken story.
When I return to my strange adopted home,

outside is glorious summer, but the clinic lights
still blink fake brightness. I close my eyes,

let them work. The pain is the same,
a carving knife dicing its way through

parts of me that never knew a gentle touch.
But the clinic care for me and when they spit me

back into the summer city the sting of walking
cripples less than the ache of my closed mouth.

I like the poem overall. Finding a new doctor after moving (or in a unfamiliar venue) and then making the first appointment is intimidating and unnerving. I thought it interesting to search for what I assume is an ObGyn clinic in Teen Magazine, but it does express some teen desperation. That red Sir Gilbert Scott telephone kiosk is a classic image. Do they still have them in the UK? (I saw one in Bermuda). Carving knife and dicing is a curious pairing, but it works well for the butchery perception of a dilation and curettage procedure for a young woman. The poem is a bit clinical, having less of an emotional component, but it works with an 'in shock' or a pre/post-traumatic syndrome sense. You have a typo and some punctuation missing in the penultimate and closing lines: 'the clinic cares for me'. Then a 'comma' and another 'comma' after city I think (?):

But the clinic cares for me and, when they spit me
back into the summer city, the sting of walking...

This is not something one wants to go through alone, but this is certainly a common scenario. Effect work Stephanie./Chris

[71degrees]

The Clinic

Attending the clinic is the closest I get to comfort.
I find the number in a teen magazine, make the call

from a red phone box like a spy or a superhero
desperate to change into something magical.

The appointment is my first chance to tell, where I learn
entire words are missing from my vocabulary.

Still the women sits, listens, takes note of me.
I cherish the moment knowing beyond the white walls

there is no one to hear this broken story.
When I return to my strange adopted home,

outside is glorious summer, but the clinic lights
still blink fake brightness. I close my eyes,

let them work. The pain is the same,
a carving knife dicing its way through

parts of me that never knew a gentle touch.
But the clinic care for me and when they spit me

back into the summer city the sting of walking
cripples less than the ache of my closed mouth.

"When I return to my strange adopted home,

outside is glorious summer, but the clinic lights"

The exchange above is awkward with a comma between them.

You have two uses of "still" within six lines…not so good.

"The pain is the same" As what?

"walking / cripples" might be okay b/c I know that's not what you mean, but it just sounds like a combination that doesn't belong together.

After all the good this clinic does for you, you then turn and tell me a second later the same clinic "spits" you back out. Doesn't jive.

You hate it outside the clinic but weather is described as "glorious"…again, doesn't jive.

Too many things that don't add up. Wonderful use of language / images at times (e.g. Phone booth/box & Superman image; "entire words" sounds strange to me, but oddly it works; the spitting image also works, just not in context with what is said earlier…if that makes sense).

Good luck w/this. I do like your use of form on the page. Stark, skeletal poetry is very cool to me.

[rowens]

The Clinic

Attending the clinic is the closest I get to comfort.
I find the number in a teen magazine, make the call

from a red phone box like a spy or a superhero
desperate to change into something magical.

So far, O.K. Changing anything wouldn't make much difference. It's O.K.

The appointment is my first chance to tell, where I learn
entire words are missing from my vocabulary.

This goes well with the first lines of the poem. But it comes off more empty. The wording.


Still the women sits, listens, takes note of me.

The takes note of me is getting back on course. Somebody's probably mentioned the typo, if that's what it is.


I cherish the moment knowing beyond the white walls

there is no one to hear this broken story.
When I return to my strange adopted home,

outside is glorious summer, but the clinic lights
still blink fake brightness. I close my eyes,

The adjectives in the last four lines are awkwardly appropriate. But I don't know if that goes against your intentions.


let them work. The pain is the same,
a carving knife dicing its way through

parts of me that never knew a gentle touch.

That's a nice innocent line.

But the clinic care for me and when they spit me

back into the summer city the sting of walking
cripples less than the ache of my closed mouth.

The closed mouth bit is good. I don't know if you'd want to add any more commas. Or if you want the clinic used as plural, if there are some places where people say the clinic care for me, I just don't myself.

[Stephanie]

Great stuff, thank you all.

I have done a rewrite based on the feedback so far but I will let it sit for a day or so before I inflict it upon you.

[Stephanie]

I have posted draft two in the first post, I think this is the way you like things done but please do tell me if I am incorrect. Thank you

[rowens]

There are those it's/its typos that happen in the second half of the poem. When my blinding headache goes away, I'll read the poem with more attention.

[milo]

Hello stephanie. This seems to be a poem about an abortion or a hysterectomy. The format is free verse in couplets. It is written in first person present tense. The primary poetic device seems to be symbolism but for the most part it is unintentionally ambiguous symbolism.

This is my second draft. I think I have followed the forum editing procedure correctly but please let me know if I have made a mistake.
Thank you again for all your feedback so far, it is so, so helpful.


Draft 2

The Clinic Take Note

Because there is no one to tell
and even if there were I can’t

find the words to explain 2:30 am
on Saturday night, the snow white

walls of the clinic are the closest
I get to comfort. A nurse scolds me

This opening statement is written backwards for some reason. When rearranged in the more normal syntax we get, "the . . . Walls of the clinic are the closest I get to comfort because there is no one to tell"
This idea is never really developed or explained but just kind of abandoned.

Why "snow" white? It is cliché and are we to guess that this is santa clause's baby? What is the significance of 2:30 am on Saturday night? And why night and not morning? There is subject/ verb disagreement between "there is no one" and "there were".

for not coming sooner, holds a coil
like a talisman, my final chance

to prevent a magic I do not wish.
She does not tell me the Dr

will hook me with a needle
to fit the contraption, which will

coil, talisman, chance, wish, magic, hook - perhaps this is a demon baby? It is not quite clear.

refuse passage to it’s new home
until they force it’s copper curl

"it's" seems to lack a proper antecedent. Is it the needle? Is it the contraption? Refuse passage? Much of this is confused by deliberately oblique language.

to pierce my cervix like a pocket knife
pressing it’s sharp silver. A wee weapon

here is where the antecedent and structure problems reall come to a head. Something (it) has had passage to its new home refused and now strikes back by piercing your cervix?

nipping at each secret step I take
to cover up the tracks I did not choose to make.

So this mysterious "it" that has been refused passage is attacking your cervix while you are busy taking secret steps to cover up tracks that you accidentally made?

Honestly, this reads like a mess though a slightly humourous one. It reads terribly fake for a first person account and the language is trying too hard to be poetic while falling quite flat.

Good luck.

Thanks for posting.

[Stephanie]

The 'it' is the coil. I name it, I am not sure how I can be any clearer than actually naming it. It's a word people here know well, no mystery about it.

[milo]

The 'it' is the coil. I name it, I am not sure how I can be any clearer than actually naming it. It's a word people here know well, no mystery about it.

The pronoun "it" most commonly refers to the noun directly preceding it. The same goes for "that" and which. Try to parse your own writing using this grammatic knowledge. Also, it is "its", not it's for possessive.

[Stephanie]

Sorry if I was not clear, I meant that the 'it' that you refer to is the coil as in she holds a coil. It is about getting an emergency coil fitted, there is no mystery object.

[milo]

Sorry if I was not clear, I meant that the 'it' that you refer to is the coil as in she holds a coil. It is about getting an emergency coil fitted, there is no mystery object.

Don't tell me, fix the grammar in the poem so it reads that way.