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The Stew At five (or four? or earlier?) I’m not yet this quailing man, but have a hale man’s needs: no child-mother could ever rise to these. So, perhaps to help her out of this spot I lay my five-or-four-year man upon the loungeroom floor, still, quiet, untroubling. And laid on my still, quiet chest, my scribbling: “I am dead.” I wonder, now that I am gone, how long she’ll keep cooking before she sees this emptiness she emptied from her womb just wants her fingers through his hair, a comb of simple human love. But her stew seethes. |
This Poem was Critiqued By: James C. Horak On Date: 2012-03-07 06:05:29
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Remove articles...like, instead "I wonder, now that I am gone" try Gone, I wonder. Leaves you more room for
"meat". The wordiness harms the read. Don't worry about indistinctness, use it. Task the reader more, it gets
them into the poem. Learn the difference observing free verse from formed and in each poem stick to one or the other. Don't be like me.
That will be fifty cents, thank you. JCH