Pleading With an Ibid's Hem (formerly The Golden Bullet), edit 1

[ellajam]

Hi, Lizzie. While the title is interesting it remains a mystery to me. I think of Ibid as a footnote but here it is king. Well, it is a dream. Maybe. Some notes:

Pleading With an Ibid's Hem

The dream began as they often do:
familiar dread, unfamiliar place—
children with the names I gave them,
ages flouting linear time.
I still like the opening, bringing the word dream in early makes the progression to nightmare stronger. I like linear because it stresses how the way most of us usually view time is shaken up here and it is a precurser to the "rows" below.

Men stood in rows like solemn corn—
a marching band missing a routine and music—
with Paul Ryan's slicked black All-American hair,
matching navy blue fitted suits,
and placid eyes that followed
the golden bullet gleaming overhead.
I like placid because it bring with it an acceptance of the sitiuation.

Their eyes were drawn in time
along its line through the sky,
tuning to the mastery of a new conductor,
mouths slung open the way they slack
when the mind abandons consciousness.
I like the repeat of time and line, used in a new way. You might consider tuned instead of tuning.

There was no warning but mine,
or sign from Yahweh—
no rainbow or prepared ark.
I like the surprise of this strophe. While in fact it moves the story along, it makes a quick shift, the way dreams can do. I'm not sure you need "but mine" but it doesn't bother me.

They never looked down or to the side,
so they didn't see us wash away.
Strong and finite end to the threat. Interesting that the opening labels it a dream instead of a nightmare, a dream that became a nightmare.

For me the political implications here are strong and tragic. Well done.