04-19-2014, 03:11 AM
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.
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.