Rigor Mortis

[TrevorConway]

Hi Miley,

Nice tone here, and some interesting images/phrases. I think "its" should be "it's" (as in "it is") throughout. Overall, the poem felt unbalanced in that the first 3 verses are a continuation of one main idea, whereas the last takes it in a different direction that then feels unexplored. You could give at least one more verse, and it could subtly give some context about the person involved, as I feel there's some detail lacking there.

All the best,

Trev

Its not sunset 
   or the last leaves of autumn 
      or gentle into that good night[,] no 
 no metaphor, not yet.

  Its high-noon, loud, summer, 
         quick, and  [smelling of] car exhaust.
      Just a glance–downtown, 
  asphalt, opposite McDonalds, in the divider.

Its not sleep. Even from my distance 
I see its not sleep. Too stiff,
too much like driftwood, sun dried, petrified.
      Too much like wood 
         on its way to stone, too quick. 

       And there's the women 
     back broke[n with] grief 
   washing [s]over his husk
crashed over and foaming nearly as loud 
as [summer holiday] traffic.

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