Poetry / 14 Inman Street

The air outside City Hall is herbed and your shoulderblades.
When I get home I will scramble my eggs with nothing but butter and salt, and I will lick them off the floor before they are spotted by cockroach or cat. I will crawl inside their holes and wait for the next time the human is sloppy.
In my childhood home oversized green winged insects gather in the ceiling fans.
“They congregate before they migrate.”
Dad is throwing doors at the ceiling and growing older every frown. Instances pile on him unrelentless. He is always in a bathrobe. He crosses his legs on the desk and plays Solitaire with abandoned packs of Marlboros.
I live in the secret space under the basement stairs that did not leave when they boarded it up. I will stay here and listen to him inhale until I find friendship I can smell. I will watch for blue ridge mountains and dirty fingernails until you let me slip into your loops without a spacesuit.

Reviews

May 14, 2007

shonagon

personal info reviewer stats

No. of Reviews	Overall Quality	Comment Followup
51	94.7% (19 votes)	43.7%

Age	Gender	Location	Last Login
26	F	Russia	January 01

shonagon reviewed Version 1 - Read 100%% of the Item

It is very rare than I enjoy poetry, let alone free form. So you win. I like the feeling/atmosphere/mental state it brings about, (and your choice and use of imagery has a primary role in that), although I cannot find the correct word for it, a sort of haphazardness/disconnection, yet simultaneous observation both from outside and within.

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May 12, 2007

patrick

REVIEW QUALITY: 100.0%(1 vote ) personal info reviewer stats

No. of Reviews	Overall Quality	Comment Followup
0	66.7% (9 votes)	100.0%

Age	Gender	Location	Last Login
26	M	Brooklyn, NY	July 10

patrick reviewed Version 1 - Read 100%% of the Item

The imagery is excellent… the insects in the fan, your dad in his bathrobe, the herbed air.  There is jump for me between the present and the past which happens after the second line, and it might make more sense to people if you wrote a transition of some sort.

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May 14, 2007

by kittyballball

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No. of Reviews	Overall Quality	Comment Followup
0	100.0% (8 votes)	100.0%

Age	Gender	Location	Last Login
25	F	Jamaica Plain, MA	February 17

Thanks for the review… you’re right about the jump, that’s my least favorite part of the poem. I’m thinking of solving it just by changing the line “I wait for the next time the human is sloppy.” I kind of hate that line. Hopefully I’ll be able to change it into a transition. but this one needs to sit for a while.
lovesya

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