Milkteeth

Oh, how I love this.

It brings to my mind, sharply in focus, conflicted memories and feelings from my childhood.

I’ll watch them fall out one by one again, as down dredged fledglings from their sky high nests of ticker tape, or sticky chestnut burrs in the gale.

For me, this imagery of falling, perchance to fly away at the last moment, perhaps to be caught in an unpredictable updraft and brought back to the crime scene of youth, portrays my early years. Flying free from the home that traps you feels unobtainable when one is small.

While every too small tooth falls out, leaving my bite soft and my gums aching, I’ll fall to my shaking knees and beg you not to save a single one. To save stuff that really matters, like pinched pennies and styrofoam cookie fortunes. Even though I know you will anyway. It’s the way all mothers are, whether her babies are no good or not.

This, the attempt to minimize one's importance, to say, "pieces of me are worth less than pennies," is haunting and familiar. It's as though you're asking her to forget you, to focus on anything else but the pain you caused by being born, by existing. The phrasing of "no good or not" is unexpected and refreshing. It implies that all mothers long to be good, even when they aren't or can't be.

The last stanza, promising a softer teething, a second chance to try to be a better child, to not be a bother, all the while worrying that you're too much, not good enough, really resonated with me. One can't help but want to be loved, even by a no good mother. Rationalizing that there is a remedy, a band-aid, a way to numb the pain from the bitemarks, is a poignant reminder of the collective desire of humanity to excuse one's behavior, one's unavoidable presence, even when there can be no turning back, no true remedy.

The poem, as a whole, feels like an apology for existing, for being that which a babe cannot not be - an innocent, unknowing, only ever wishing for approval.

Thank you for sharing.

Oh, hi there; didn't see you! You've reached r/OCPoetry. This is a workshop site where you can share, read, and talk about eachother's poetry & etc. To post your own poems, you need to give feedback to 2 other writers. If you aren't trying to share, you're encouraged to give feedback, but aren't required. Try to be nice, questioning, and specific. If you can't do that - eat a cabbage and come back later. Try to give feedback to a writer without any feedback. Lastly, read our feedback guide , other writer's comments, or this author’s feedback links. If you still aren't sure whether your comments are useful ‘feedback’, or you have any other questions, send us a modmail!

I am a bot, and this action was performed automatically. Please contact the moderators of this subreddit if you have any questions or concerns.

I knew it. The minute I read your feedback, I said to myself... "this person writes."

This has a voice and style that reminds me of the New York School poets, especially early John Ashbery (e.g. The Painter). It begins with almost regretful or conflicted nostalgia but shifts into something closer to an elegy once the person addressed, the referent of the recognized reflection in the mirror, becomes clearer... and I found that this shift made me go back to the first five stanzas, in a way that mirrors what the speaker is also doing: culling past images and realizing the "Atlas" figure behind them.

Your purposeful use of assonance and consonance is quite pleasurable to read aloud. Example:

again, as down dredged fledglings
from their sky high nests of ticker
tape, or sticky chestnut burrs in the gale

The mirrored placement and structure of the "when I look in the mirror" verses is effective and striking and your choice of imagery throughout the poem is honestly at a level that I rarely see on this type of forum. It's going to remain with me:

If I were to wring out the hereditary
crooks in my spine, raise my frigid
palms and outstretch them— so
the azure trapped beneath my paper
thin skin could greet the ether in
the heavens above us—

Thank you for all of this. Do you publish? I really think you should.

"If I were to wring out the hereditary crooks in my spine, raise my frigid palms and outstretch them— so the azure trapped beneath my paper thin skin could greet the ether in the heavens above us— and I held it in my breadth, a sordid sliver of scorching sky, that is—

Would Atlas feel any relief wash over his aching body in the weary wind he heaves? I bet I’d just be too little, and far too late, feathered and tarred in that same ubiquitous thanklessness central to the business of skyholding. "

This is easily my favorite two paragraphs, but at the same time I think it disrupts the poem in a strange way. I dare say I think it was written first, then the rest of the poem, and finished off with the first two paragraphs, with the mirror verses strangely separating these parts.

That's not to say it's inherently bad, but it does feel as if I'm reading two separate poems, one dealing with inner qualms regarding... Upbringing? Maturing? And the other, a struggle that feels more... Timeless.

I'm also a bit skeptical about what the "azure" trapped beneath paper skin is... Blood, if I'm reaching? I think there's always an element of mystery in every poem, something you need to stretch your brain to make sense of, typically in a unique way for every reader, but this part in all honesty I can't make any sense of.

"I’ll watch them fall out one by one again, as down dredged fledglings from their sky high nests of ticker tape, or sticky chestnut burrs in the gale."

I was pulled in quite heavily by the first paragraph, it gave a sense of almost urgency, and the vocabulary felt unique. While the latter is true of this paragraph, I think it doesn't quite earn it. It's the same topic, milk teeth falling out, but then it goes into something about "down dredged fledglings," and perhaps their nests of ticker tape is something to do with... Waste? Pollution? Could that have something to do with the dredging? At first I assumed that just had to do with the metaphor of a baby falling into the water, perhaps a newly hatched bird, but perhaps they're loosely connected? Either way, the paragraph drags on for four lines of what is essentially covered by the first line, perhaps the second is justified to show their youth or innocence.

All in all despite my criticisms, I thoroughly enjoyed reading Milkteeth and I think it's originality helps to carry it well. I think whatever it was that inspired you truly meant something, I could feel that much, but I also think it may have taken a minute to find it's footing and left some muddled footprints on its way. If anything I've said here has any truth, perhaps consider cleaning up a poem, or rewriting it to feel out what's important and what's simply filling extra space that could be more effectively utilized.

This is true poetry, and I hope to read more from you.

This is captivating, especially the last 2 parts. They left a big impact on me, maybe they just hit a bit too close to home. Takes me back to feeling almost incapable of beind adequate in the way you love someone. Yearning to feel not so awful, awful and so vulnerable. Trying to be better, but believing you deserve nothing better. Thaht's what I get from this and I'm sorry if im wrong, this is beautifuly written and will stick with me for a long long time. Thank you for sharing your work.