Guilty gifts

[Keith]

Edit 1 Quix

The wooden boards flexed like sleeping ribs  Maybe it's just because I read your first edit yesterday and really enjoyed it, but I'm not sure about moving this up here; it's a good line that, for me, doesn't work as well being placed right at the start
as a large wave spewed over a little café  if it's her favourite spot it should be 'the' little cafe, perhaps??
soaking her favourite Sunday morning spot  I'm nitpicking because I enjoy the constituent elements, but it feels like [soaking her favourite sunday morning spot] and [her favourite sunday morning spot to sip hot mocha, close her.. ect] are two separate phrases which jar together. Again, it only needs a small change, but it's a tiny point of contention for me.
to sip hot Mocha, close her eyes
and face the sun, inhale the sea-salt air
the way her mother had always done.  Hmm, this stanza as a whole doesn't quite sit right within the poem, even with this move. I think that bit of history is good though, and there's good imagery in here. 

She wanted to feel small again,
still brave enough
to shout her name into the head wind,
to breath herself alive in the rising swell.

The pier was deserted as she stepped over
the danger sign that danced on its rusty chain.
Through the murk of stirred up sand
her raincoat demanded attention,
a slash of red bleeding across the grey.

Far off in the deep its mass was moving,
a vast sea cat timing its run for the neck,
each thudded step counted in the waves
as she ran towards the spray,
a surfer would have known what was coming.
The ocean smashed through the decking,
a sledge hammer on piano keys,  Great
its mouth tight around her legs and chest Also great
as it carried her deafeningly into muffled silence.  

On a warm Sunday her usual spot was taken,  Either make this a semicolon or have 'by'
a man watching his son crab fishing on the rocks.
” I've got one” the boy shouted,
guiding his catch into a bucket.
He didn't notice the red shape shifting in the sand
surfacing only to fold across the rocks,
a small offering as the guilty tide
bowed with outstretched arms
and stepped away. Nice nice nice


Ok so I really like this poem, it's great for the imagery and a well told story. As mentioned, to me the first stanza isn't quite right yet where the rest of the poem feels very polished. I think moving the most suggestive lines to the end of the stanza works better maybe, I think partly it's fitting the double flashback into an already past tense poem within a single sentence. Maybe open with the sunny flashback for the first few lines, then reel us in by the end of that first stanza by hitting us with the real setting of the poem; with the crashing waves and wooden limbs. Look forward to reading it more. 

Thank you for the help Donald, you make some good points here that make a lot of sense I will review and come back to edit, thanks again Keith

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This is a really great one, my only comment is the switch of s3 to the beginning makes the she pronoun a little more confusing, is she the ocean, the mocha stand, or the girl were about to meet.  Nothing like a tropical storm to make someone feel truly insignificant and tiny.  Thanks for sharing!

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Not too confusing to take away from the poem though, kudos!

All good points CRNDLSM, thanks for the feedback, i will take into another edit.Best Keith