Your Hand I Remember(edit 2)

[Knot]

Hi Bryn,

I like the idea of a memory as a bird in a thicket, dimly seen and elusive (and I think you lose some of that in the revision.) Also, I'm not keen on the rhetorical question, but if you were looking for a long-ish title then
Among thorns, what can I hope to remember of you?
would be my suggestion.

I think you could lose the 'blazing living room fire' (II) and the 'glowing ember' (III) - they feel like one image too many.

And how many 'glimpses' does one poem need?

If you're set on numbering, then I think you should really embrace it. So ... some passing thoughts/suggestions.


I
The past a dark
and brambled thicket.
Memories flit
branch to branch;

II
Lily of the valley ringing
sweet sprays of white bells
...
(Seems like this needs a location, that it is her favourite flower could be inferred. I like how it builds on the 'thicket'/woodland landscape.)

III
your house on Martha Washington
stairs the height of Everest
me and the cousins tumbling
down and down again
playing octopus,

Grandpa grasping for us
a child’s thrill of wishing
against wishing to be caught.

IV
But never you
did I glimpse so carefree, your song sung quietly
in the background of memory,
(maybe a little bit more here? And 'did I glimpse' rings the wrong note, But I never saw you so carefree / heard you sing so quietly ...)

V
I imagine
sitting at your pink Formica table
(not sure you need the 'your' given 'your house' earlier.)
in the kitchen talking, just us two,
your Lauran Bacall gapped grin, .................................. (Spellling - Lauren)
the curl off your cigarette, hanging
(do cigarettes curl?)
on every missing word never
heard from you to know you.

VI
It could’ve been the light
of an early fall
or the height of summer
not letting on that time
is late

VII
comforted by the quiet
bustle of soft shoed nurses.
Quick to smile,
they hustle tucking
(not sure about 'hustle', could something be rustling?)
blankets and tending pumps
and morphine drips to the regular
rhythm of ragged breath all
(Might just be me but ... 'regular rhythm' and 'ragged' seem contradictory)
wishing against wishing
each is your last.

VIII
whisper soft skin
spotted and thinned
Your hand I remember
bird-boned, and flown.
....
(for me, I'd have liked a return to the 'thicket', bird-boned took me back to I, and something 'flitting branch to branch.)


Best, Knot


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