A Deeper Cut

[Philatone]

hey dale
some thoughts

I was interested in a number of your adjective because they occasionally felt like too-much for me, though perhaps it's appropriate for the theme. more specifically..

A Deeper Cut

At the end of her road of self-absorption
was a yellow-brown mineral stained bathtub ...while accurate, "yellow-brown" didn't sit well with me
overflowing with a mixture
of warm water and hot blood.
Located in a drug infested shooting gallery
of a Tom Burdettless Motel 6 ...if desired, this description of the motel could be made more concise. the "drug-infested shooting gallery" felt too direct for me in a poem on this topic
on the north bound feeder road
of I-H35 in south Austin: ...oh, I35...fun times...
one block from the new Luby’s
where the blue hairs were lining up
for the blue plate special.

Serving time had just begun
on that Thursday morning at 10:51. ...felt a bit extra to me
Although not incredibly bright, ...as with this line
she had finally figured out
that you had to slice deep,
just like the server at Luby’s,
was doing to the roast beef.
She had to carve deeply downward
from elbow to wrist right along her
much abused leathery veins
if she wanted to fill the tub
before the EMT’s
got there to patch her up. ...in some way, could trim this line and end on EMTs to make them feel more like an 'enemy' of hers or something like that

This time…she went willfully deep into the arm. ...why the ellipsis?
It was a lot harder than it seemed it should be. ...get the sentiment, feels a bit clunky
The skin and flesh not so much slicing as ripping. ...i like these details
But the sound,
that was what was so surprising: ...again, a clunky feel to it
that strange sucking tearing sound. ..."sucking tearing" I'm undecided on how I feel about it. I do get the sentiment.
It reminded her of when she gave birth
to her only child:
a precocious green eyed daughter,
now sixteen,
who did not yet know that in a few hours ...again, this line doesn't read as smoothly as it could. it also is direct
she would be making arrangements
for the final physical remnant of a wasted life. ...dramatic? gives a sense of judging to the speaker
When the call did come,
green eyes would not be upset.
Mother and daughter had not lived together
for the past three years.
Green eyes had distanced herself from It,
had moved on from It,
didn’t have the energy for It,
she no longer cared about It. ...I get the desire to repeat and emphasize this It, but for me it would read just as well in this form:

Green eyes had distanced herself/ moved on/ didn't have energy/ no longer cared.

but that is entirely personal. as is, it strikes me as trying to be a bit too emotional
She thought the same thoughts as everyone
when they heard the news:

“Why did it take you so long?” ...need the "you"? I don't think it needs to be introduced to this piece

It was never questioned.
It was going to happen.
Too many dress rehearsals
to not finally put on the show.
The tickets had all been bought,
and paid for several times over
years and years and years ago.....sometimes when I read, it feels like the metaphor is dragging on too long

The last good rehearsal she had
was when she OD’ed,
snowballing heroin and coke.
She ended up in the ER,
charcoal shoved most ungently down her throat.
Certainly not the most dramatic time by far.
There had not been anything left to burn
for a very long time.

Nobody was playing her game anymore.
Except for those equally whacked out members
of her sexual abuse support group:
it had been second verse same as the first
for so long that everyone knew the tune,
front to back, and back to front,
it was Mary had a Little Lamb,
sung again and again, ad nauseam.
It had not been an interesting jingle to start.
(If you plan on keeping the crowd interested
you got to have some new material
every now and again.
A raised fifth on the same tired old theme
won’t get anybody going.)
So the thousands of wasted dollars
on home security devices
to keep out the non-existent
cult members had less affect
on her audience
than an unscheduled timpani roll
drowning out the oboe solo
in the last movement of a Berlioz symphony.

...ok, it felt as though this stanza kept spiraling into details for me, though each is only held for a few lines before moving on. rather than giving me a sense of depth, i don't know what to do with the information. at times again, the metaphors dragged for me

The feeble pathetic torso-joined-limbs ...the adjectives didn't grab me
of the multi-tentacled “twice weekly support group”
that had only fantasy upon which to hang
their undersized hats of non-existent self-esteem,
were always up for game of
one-up-man-ship until
someone would get so fed up
with the one-ups
that they would one-up,
one final time. ...nice pun, but it struck me as coming at the cost of content. I thought this was the woman's poem. it feels as though it is turning into the support group's poem.
the way that the support group is introduced intially makes me think that it will be a quick mention, but here it is receiving so much focus. it catches me off-guard; as i give it more reads, perhaps my mind will change

The arrival of the too-late-this-time
EMT would bare witness
to her testament
of self-absorption.
Signed in cheap red ink
soaking into the dirty porous grout
staining it that unmistakable dark color...could combine this and the next line: "staining it that unbleachable color" (if desired)
that can’t be bleached out:
waiting until the manager who collected
a mere twenty-six dollars ...why do i need to know this? I'm sure it's important, but it feels tacked on
for the rent breaks down and
has it ripped out…………again.

© –Erthona