causa mortis
the leaves no longer
crunch under our feet
because the rain has
forced them to yield their
crispness to the air
and yet it cannot
wash away this thing
that hangs between us
unsaid.
you turn and ask if
i’ve given thought to
how i might die and
i feel as if i’m
drowning,
sinuses burning
as i look at you.
the rain’s trying to
make me an ocean.
i turn away from
you and towards the
sky, my sinuses
still ablaze and i
try to answer
the inquisitor,
perched on the bench next
to me while i am
drowning before him.
i feebly tread the
gelid sea and i
keep myself afloat
but i am far too
weak and my eyes sting
and my lungs beg for
mercy and my heart
is failing under
pressure.
my sinuses burn
as i tell you that
I know i’m not long
for this world and that
my head will soon go
under and never
resurface but I
don’t tell you that
i’m afraid you will
sink me.
Feedback:
Posted Dec 24, 2021, 3:21 AM UTC · edited
This is so vivid -- brilliant imagery. I particularly love "yield their crispness to the air", that's a great turn of phrase.
I love this stanza (or is it two?). It's so matter-of-fact; the calm before the storm of emotions that follows.
I'm not sure if the thing that is unsaid is the same thing you then turn and ask? If so, I feel like this kind of robs the "unsaid" of its power, since it's immediately contradicted. Let it hang in the air a little longer, maybe.
I don't know if this was intentional, but this section screws with my sense of space a little bit. First the narrator is turning towards the sky (aside, an extremely uncomfortable image -- raindrops in my eyes), then they're describing the inquisitor on the bench next to them, whom they are drowning before. Maybe this conveys the disorientation of the narrator, but it also harms the visual I've been building in my head.
This is the weakest stanza, IMO. It stalls the pacing and doesn't really add to the image or story. Tbh I'm not sure about the following one either; I think the inquisitor (also great imagery, by the way -- I'm not sure how literal it's supposed to be but I'm picturing a bedraggled raven) feels like he should be near the end, building up to the crux of the poem.
You mentioned in a comment on my poem that you've been writing about "romance/love/sex" recently -- would you consider this under that umbrella? I'm wondering how to interpret the death that the narrator is contemplating -- whether it's the death of a relationship, or something else.
All in all, I really like this.
Thank you so, so much for this incredible feedback.
I think my goal was to convey this image of two people, between whom there is an intense emotional connection that is weighing on the narrator, having a chat and then sort of shake that up with these images of the sea and drowning.
To be honest, hearing that it harmed the visual you were building in your head actually was kind of nice, because it’s meant to be jarring. After all, logically, it doesn’t make sense for the narrator to be literally drowning on a park bench next to someone, but the narrator very much feels as if that’s what’s happening because of the intensity of what they feel and their fear of the effect this person they are increasingly enamored with has on. Maybe there’s a smoother way to communicate that haha
I agree that the two stanzas you picked out are the weak points in the poem. I was trying to demonstrate the narrator’s sense of panic, but I don’t know how well that came across.
Thank you, again :) this was incredibly helpful
Ahh, so they were sitting on the bench! In my head they were walking and the bench was kinda off to the side of the path. I think the leaves (not) crunching underfoot at the start is what set it up that way for me.
Perhaps, since the disorientation was intentional, you could lean into it a bit more? In a sense I think not knowing if I was supposed to be confused was the most confusing part.