revisit

[Leanne]

I have forgotten how to write a poem
pluck each hair from its pore and lay it flat
against the bead of sweat that washes salt
into raw
reopened
freshly bitten flesh

My teeth are soft, unbuttoned and strewn like a Steinway
across a tuxedoed page,
stage, subsonic outrage…

*plink*

is all that falls
from dew and dawn-capped silence
as I am
{rewound}



Sorry to post when I've not been commenting enough lately... I just had to write something... please don't feel obliged to comment

[billy]

it's quite clever, putting the mistakes
in the poem. the end is almost perfect
in it's execution of imaging the winding down
before the next batelle

[Leanne]

thanks billy... it's not great but it's something, which is more than I've been writing for such a long time

[just mercedes]

Hi Leanne - I like the reach in this, and the bones of process remaining - it reminds me of dirty/pretty. I really admire poetry that uses font as illustration or image, not just letters of words. The cross-outs force a slowing down and return, and so somehow emphasize what has vanished/been rejected. The second stanza is my favorite, "soft teeth" made me see melting grand piano keyboards, don't ask... The rest of the imagery is so vivid that the 'dew and dawn-capped silence' felt a little like a let-down.

I don't think you've forgotten how, at all. I enjoyed the read, thank you!

[Leanne]

Thanks Mercedes... do you think that line could be ripped out entirely?

(melting grand pianos is almost exactly what I was thinking as well... don't ask!)

[billy]

thanks billy... it's not great but it's something, which is more than I've been writing for such a long time

i feel so small now something

[Leanne]

it was just a two minute job... I need to put in more effort. That's not an excuse, btw, just a fact.

[billy]

it would take me at least 5 hours to something as good

[Leanne]

and I can't write what you write, so we're even

[popeye]

Cheers Leanne even in the key of g you hit the high notes!