In the Museum of Ethnology

[Wjames]

In the Museum of Ethnology

REV 1 (13.10)

In the Chinese room,
a brush and ink drawing
compels through the glass. I think cutting 'the' would make this nicer.

With its free-flowing mane
and feathery tail, 
a horse in mid-gallop
is flying towards me, maybe 'flies towards me'? - I don't think the comma at the end of this line is needed either.
joyful and wild,
straining to leap
from the paper.

Knowing how much
you love horses and art,
I think to myself, 
The gift shop!
That horse on a card
belongs on your desk,
I'll post it tomorrow,
shouldn't take long to reach
your address. This is nice - this verse could be a poem in itself (I like the idea of a poem with the I's and You's reversed).

Then time and space tremble,
I no longer breathe
but implode;
as molecules rearrange, I think this would be better without the comma at the end of the line.
I hear the stone split,
feel a new vein of sorrow
crack open in the
granite rockface of grief. I really like the last five lines of this verse a lot, but I don't think the first three lines really add anything - to me, they are all summed up by 'as molecules rearrange'.

What was I thinking?
An almost-moment, forgetting
you no longer live there.

Forgetting you no longer live. I think this is lovely as is, but I think it could be a bit stronger if you show this rather than say it flat out. i.e forgetting the weeks in the hospital, forgetting the roses on the stone, forgetting your sister in black etc.

With its free-flowing mane
and feathery tail,
a horse in mid-gallop
is flying towards me,
joyful and wild,
straining to leap
from the paper. I like this repitition, to my read, it is sort of the narrator remembering the person again represented in the image.
--------------------- 

A brush and ink drawing
is on display,
protected by glass
in the Chinese room.

With its free-flowing mane
and feathery tail,
a horse in mid-gallop
is looking towards me,
glorious, wild, and joyful,
straining to leap 
from the paper.

Knowing how much
you love horses and art,
I think to myself,
I'll go to the gift shop,
that horse on a card
needs to be on your desk,
I'll post it tomorrow,
might take just a week
to reach your address.

A split atom later
the space-time continuum trembles,
people and artefacts fade.

I implode,
feel molecules rearrange,
hear the splitting of stone,
and a new vein of sorrow
cracks open 
in the granite rockface of grief.

What was I thinking?

For an almost-moment forgetting
you no longer live there.

Forgetting you no longer live.

With its free-flowing mane
and feathery tail,
a horse in mid-gallop
is looking towards me,
glorious, wild, and joyful,
straining to leap 
from the paper.

Hey Don Mar, I like this poem - hopefully my thoughts are of some help to you.