wow – im glad you got that allusion to alice and the looking glass with the duchess and the cook.
Poetry / Relationships (now we are both dead revision)
There is a baby in the room that we never acknowledge. I assume she is a girl because in my mind everyone is a girl, and oh how lovely that would be. The other woman with me drags her feet when she walks so that skidding sounds are made on the hardwood floor in even intervals. The baby cries until she sounds like she is suffocating. No one looks in her direction. I glide into the kitchen, feet like wheels rolling over the wood. My mind is something new, something untarnished and unthoughtfull. The baby makes a slurping noise and finally I walk towards her, afraid to look into her face for fear she may resemble me. I rock her cradle slightly, averting my eyes. She is not calmed. Her slurps have become coughs. Skidding sounds scratch towards me and the baby. When I reach for the bundle the other woman says something like ‘I thought you were different.’
But I am not different. I am unthoughtful and unforgiving and this baby needs some sort of comfort, even if only my lousy arms. The other woman is threatening to leave now, her feet dig into the floor near the doorway. A slam is heard but she is just pretending. I can feel her heavy breaths. She is hiding in the coat closet. I put the baby down again in her cradle and she starts to cry. My feet carry me to the closet door that opens before I touch it. The other woman is revealed, naked. As I pull her out by her frail arm, she clings to the coats and other loose garments – scarves, winter hats, gloves tied together to assure that they will remain a pair. Hangers snap in their middles like small twigs and the woman falls to the ground. The baby stops crying in the kitchen. The woman who drags her feet looks up at me with an eye that is blackening. I say something like ‘I am sorry.’
And then the baby starts to cry again. I slide towards the kitchen and pick up the baby. The other woman crawls towards us on all fours. The middle of her back droops so that her stomach scratches against the wood; slivers are starting to appear. She reaches up her arms when she arrives at my feet and slings them around my knees. The wood in her chest is poking my flesh. I bend down with the baby in my arms and softly remove the splinters. With each removal the baby is soothed. Now the woman is crying; blood is trickling down her torso in thin streams. The baby’s hand smears the rivers of red so that the blood is obscured and can no longer tavel smoothly down the woman’s body. I look at the baby in my arms; a large smile has burned itself on her fat cheeked face. I am startled, and I throw the baby across the room. When she is in mid-air she says something like ‘This wasn’t meant to happen.’
We all disappear.
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EAnonymous reviewed Version 1 -
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“so that skidding sounds are made on the…” - I think this might flow better as “making skidding sounds on the…” (active vs. passive)
“feet like wheels…” – i’d add “my feet…”
unthoughtful
holy crap! i love the changes you’ve made at the end! :)
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libramoon reviewed Version 1 -
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This strikes me as a haunting dream with bits of that scene from Alice with the Duchess and baby that turns into a pig. It drew me in completely and immediately. I can see it as a surreal painting in 3-D, with spacey sound effects.
Some glitches:
unthoughtful or even unthought-full [in first paragraph]
no longer travel smoothly
fat-cheeked [last paragraph]
Undone reviewed Version 1 -
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I feel this piece is very original. I believe what you are trying to convey is every person is you in some way. I may have interpreted wrong but this is how I see it. In the end I think you should change the part about throwing the baby in the air to something conveying the same thing but being a tad more subtle.
JessicaG reviewed Version 1 -
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I’m not sure that this is a poem?
I think I understand the symbolism of the women and who we are and the one shut away.
Have you given thought to naming the women?
intimate_le reviewed Version 1 -
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I felt more like this was a short story i wanted to go on. As a poem a didn’t find a rythm or any type of ryhme that is commonly assocciated with some of our greatest poets but a poem doesn’t have to ryhme. But you have a great imagination you should try your talents in other areas
ames_plaza reviewed Version 1 -
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That was incredibly original, it seems like a dream sequence, when there’s so much going on and it sort of links together in a madhouse of semi-rational thought. In general, i loved it.
There was a typo in the last paragraph, “tavel” should be “travel.” And i’m wondering if the baby was the one that said “this wasn’t supposed to happen” or was it the woman? I’d be a little more specific with that. <3 ames plaza.
avkoshy reviewed Version 1 -
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unthoughtful – spelling correction
heavy breath it should be, not heavy breaths
dream reality of startling exactitude but scary
TiffVicious reviewed Version 1 -
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This is a great revision. I love how you say, “I said something like” or “she said something like” This is such an interesting piece, it just leaves you thinking WHAT THE HELL? but in a good way. The only criticism i have is that i dont like the new title. Its too boring for your kind of work! Loved it!
Marrianeelizabeth reviewed Version 1 -
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definitely original, somewhat scary, incredibly powerful, and slightly confusing. i don’t understand teh part about the splinters. are they affecting the lady or the baby? and i’m not sure what exactly it is the baby does.
LLee reviewed Version 1 -
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Very interesting. The poem is very psychological, like a dream, and as such, it is a bit like a muddled riddle that is hard to understand. I get the idea that you, the other woman, and the baby, are all the same, but conflict strongly with each other, and are constantly trying to win the attention and care of each other (even while you are trying to abuse or neglect each other). I am sort of confused though, because if this were the case, then why is the title “Relationships(now we are both dead)” if there are three of you rather than two, and it is implied that you mean all three of you, because you all disappear in the end? Or is it that the narrator is the whole you, and the other woman and the baby are the split parts of you, and when you say “now we are both dead”, you mean the two parts of you? I think that that needs a little clarification, but not too much, because I like the subconsious tone of the poem. Sorry this review is sort of long- I wanted to tell you what I thought was going on in the poem to see if I am right and to let you know what I, as a reader, am getting out of it. I wanted to say also that I found this poem interesting, because in many old mythologies there are three main moon goddesses(that are separate but one)—always a young girl, a mother, and an old woman. The “other” woman of your poem was not described as being old, but I think that the way she dragged herself around was sort of suggestive of old age, or weariness. The baby is, of course, the young aspect, and the narrator is depicted as being somewhat motherly. I found it very interesting that your poem, whether intentionally or not, touched on some old and fairly universal feminine themes.
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