Postcard (after busker) - v2

[matsunosuperfan]

Postcard

Love is the only foolish
adventuring we do, a story
most convincing in the absence
of the truth.

Part a pair of parrots,
and they’ll pluck themselves to death,
forgetting how to fly with only one
pinfeather left.

I looked for you in London, where the air
is thick with memory—you weren’t there,
but your shadow was. The cockles
made me sick.

Time accrues. It wraps around
the throat and closes slow, until
one morning, you just don’t wake up.
And you’re the last to know.

I admire this poem, most of all for the ending. Despite what I learn before the turn, the last strophe grips me. I think the parrots is a well placed image that carries much weight to how I carry the poem.  Cockles - a mollusk? or the one's in your heart? is a double meaning that didn't spring immediately to mind but I learned and both fit well with "made me sick" and I am grateful for that lesson as much as the idea of it. I'm glad I read this poem.

Hey, I really appreciate the feedback. You've given me a new reading on my own piece, which is always nice. Many thanks for taking the time.

---

Hello

I see this was written inspired by another poem (or a line from another poem).  I can tell you the first dozen or so times I began to read this - I read the first line, thought "well, that's not fucking true" and promised myself to return later.  I should have read the second where it acknowledges that.  I believe this would be an example of amphigory in its initial definition, "   /amphigory/ A figure faulty in definition, grammar, or syntax that, as a result of the fault, means nothing." - although the definition has slid over time and is used more commonly today with nonsense verse (Lear makes good use of it)

The usage here is interesting - if slightly jarring on the first read -mostly because as the first line, when I read the rest I read it as an attempt to disagree with the lack of truth.

Anyway - the poem as a whole is delightful.  Part a pair of parrots is a bit Seussian in it's overabundance of alliteration so it might be reconsidered but the metaphor fits nicely and is elegantly drawn.  That's about it for me - I found it enjoyable and any suggestions would only be to my taste not necessarily to be better or worse than it already is.

Thanks for posting

Postcard
after busker

Love is the only foolish
adventuring we do, a story
most convincing in the absence
of the truth.

Part a pair of parrots,
and they’ll pluck themselves to death,
forgetting how to fly with only one
pinfeather left.

I looked for you in London, where the air
is thick with memory—you weren’t there,
but your shadow was. The cockles
made me sick.

Time accrues. It wraps around
the throat and closes slow, until
one morning, you just don’t wake up.
And you’re the last to know.

--

People had mixed feelings about the last stanza. upon reflection, I kind of love it, so I left it in :3

Thanks Milo, very helpful notes and appreciate the kind words. Agreed about the triple-p perhaps being a bit much...