The Scavenger's Daughter

[bwasroy]

Hi Everybody, 



Sorry for the delay. I've been writing but haven't had the time to post critiques on here so I've been waiting. Here's one I've had kicking around for a few months that I'm not sure what to do with. I have two versions of this poem: the long version ("Late Nights with the Scavenger's Daughter") and the short version ("The Scavenger's Daughter"). I'd be interested in knowing which version works best in addition to any general revision notes. 



I like this poem quite a bit, I'm just not sure how to polish it best....


Version 1: Late Nights with the Scavenger's Daughter



All summer, the poplars hang
like unarmed sentinels. too bare
to offer shade, as if she even cared
driving the car with bad brakes
down the one main hill in town. 



She has struggled for days
to abandon cigarettes, even once
threw the box into the weeds,
but at night dreams of smoke
rising never high enough
to touch the clouds.



Under her starched blouse
I see the stolen page
from a Chinese picture book tattooed
onto her back as if it was a map
of everything she had lost. 



When night comes with a mouthful of stars,
she releases her aggression by kicking
at a ball tethered in her backyard.



When her mother arrives home,
the old woman whines of how
starter homes would not sell
Her eyes like fallen cradles.



(Her father was a scavenger.
He died of cancer when she was just a girl.)



She wanted to very much kick that ball
loose and send it sailing far past the moon,
but the moon was much too far from her.



                        ***



I know a lot about the moon.



The moon does not care a thing about us.


I know this; I saw it once spread out
in Denver, when I pulled my car
to the roadside after nearly having hit
a guardrail, and shoveled off
snow mounds from the windshield.


The moon sang: I know how close
to death you can get, you will not
know the names of these fields.


In the morning, the sun turned roads
to blacktop, but I had escaped by then.



I know how she slept that first night,
she left no impressions in the mattress,
her foot tattooed with a rose
stuck out from the sheets. 


Our summer ended long ago.
The room is scattered with papers now.
You can not tell a woman lived here.  


Version 2:  The Scavenger's Daughter   



All summer, the poplars hang
as she struggles to abandon cigarettes.



Under her starched blouse,
a tattoo from a Chinese picture book.
A map of everything she has lost. 



She releases her aggression 
by kicking a ball in her backyard.



She wants very much to kick that ball over the moon,
but the moon is much too far from her.


                        ***

She slept still on that first night,
and left no impressions in the bed.



But, that was long ago, 
this room is scattered with papers now

and you cannot tell a woman lived here.  

[crow]

Imho, v1 is better. I'll give it a look, and I'll try to keep it short.

[crow]

With apologies, I can't make heads or tales of this poem. Could you give me a quick recap of the narrative?

[crow]

In lieu of a decent crit, here's me reading it aloud. Maybe it'll be at least a little helpful:

https://soundcloud.com/christopher-young...s-with-the

[billy]

in serious, the idea is to put an as finished as possible up for feedback/critique. putting up a choice of two is already an admission that one doesn't work. that said i like both for differing reasons. number 2 is the best which doesn't mean to say it has a few probs, on this basis i'll give feedback to that one. a suggestion for your dilemma is to write a selection of poems based on the same them; the scavenger's daughter.
the poem;
the font changes don't help the person giving feedback it creates a jungle for them to wade through, just highlight the formatting you wish and do more than one line at a time
i liked it a lot, felt cheated at the flat outcome which felt a bit forced. i could see little of any scavenger's daughter within the poem though i did like the simple study of the women used within the poem. a suggestion would be to change the title. that said as it's a brilliant tite, (it just doesn't fit the poem to well)

The Scavenger's Daughter   
All summer, the poplars hang[hung]hung like what? make the mundane a little bolder
she struggles to abandon cigarettes.[struggled] i like the opening, it sets the scene. it's shows a problem, will the problem become more?
Under her starched blouse, the starch gives me an impression of a neat meticulous person
a tattoo from a Chinese picture book. i do like the originality of this line.
A map of everything she has lost. no need for [has] leave as is or perhaps a contraction; [she'd] lost
She releases her aggression no need for [her] as it's a given the reader will automatically see
by kicking a ball in her backyard.
She wants very much to kick that ball over the moon, like this line a lot it's as if doing so would unload all her worries on the other side.
but the moon is much too far from her. is [from her] needed?

***

She slept still on that first night,
and left no impressions in the bed. i would have preferred the [tattooed foot/ankle] to follow this line with a new line, in order to leave a different type of impression
But, that was long ago,
this room is scattered with papers now [the room] would suffice
and you cannot tell a woman lived here. for me you need another line or two as a reader i'm left feeling cheated.