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A Window Cracked My Vision Enemies know us by what friends forgive fault lines unluck the mirroring veneer getting plastered while waiting to cure we sieve through unholy alliances of fear an abstract returns the glancing razor morning fissures surface under the shave within a whisker the shorn appraiser wonders at the raised brows' arching enclave population of prejudice ponders fomenting fallacies that fiercely force searing symptoms of slandered self squanders hollow hands hovering horribly hoarse voices aired through prisms fan a chorus pulling stretched out characters till porous |
This Poem was Critiqued By: Carolyn Minsker On Date: 2004-12-07 07:02:34
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 1.00000
Because I am a poet, and feeling very dark, I much enjoyed your poem. Not-a-poet I fear, would not get it. I wonder whether a crisis, or just an observation stirred this muse. the speaker is a man, in reverie during his morning shave. the third strophe with its alliteration steals the stage somehow on horseback with hooves. At the end I see myself in the mirror, too porous.