Last March, my ankles sank like anchors. Took
All chance of knowing what's beyond me. Left
My blood to hawk from cell to cell a doomed
Rebellion.
No one had warned old age would swoop like death,
Would come as suddenly as rage. Not told
To pick a favourite pose for when, mid-thought,
The record stops.
https://www.reddit.com/r/poetry_critics/comments/8vv5ox/under_my_bed/
https://www.reddit.com/r/poetry_critics/comments/8w8t4f/tale_of_two_passions/
Posted Jul 6, 2018, 3:22 PM UTC
The breaks in the lines are perfectly composed. It makes for a very jarring read, which I think is a good thing.
The line about picking a favorite pose is my favorite. It's going to stick with me.
My one constructive criticism: what do you mean by the blood hawking from cell to cell in a doomed rebellion? Is this meant as a description of a particular illness? It's a little unclear, and while it reads very well I am having a hard time sussing out its exact meaning.
Thanks this is really helpful. The line is lazy to be honest. It doesn't refer to a real biological function which I think is what makes it confusing. Other people haven't liked that line either. The idea was that the blood is the last thing still moving and it's pathetically struggling to convince the rest of me to keep up the fight!
I love how precise your diction is. Your metaphors and similes are beautiful, and the first line was especially captivating.
Thank you. It means a lot!