Natalie Popow’s SST7 first draft

1 Jun

I’ve been working on this for quite a while. I don’t think it’s quite saying what I want it to yet and I want a bit more cohesion and exactness with the imagery. Any feedback would be appreciated 🙂

 

Between the Mole and the Marrow


As we watched the giant slumber

With the balcony still hot under

Our feet while daylight lingers

Like the opal glow of eyes under

bedsheets with laughter crumpling

to the end of everything. Our

breath caught in between the space

where I hide behind. I saw that cliff face

Where once we waved at the space

Where we were then. I blink.

And you are gone from me now.

 

Nostalgia, what venomous ambrosia

All the hurt that crumbles down

The amnesiac wall. The thickness

Of me that you dearly took in

Sickness, dear, in sickness you

Were unfit for me. You shook my

Bones and bellowed at me in

Tones of misogyny, so angrily,

You rammed at my gate,

Mangled my resolve and crammed

A vial of arsenic down my throat

And the moat surrounding my

Castle thirsted while you burst in

Without asking and told me

You had always been King.

 

You called yourself a feminist

Wore a denim jacket

With a ticket in the pocket

From the eighties

For a ride for two.

 

You called yourself a feminist

But all your tall talk

Your Philosophy

Ended up to be nothing more

than a form of latent hypocrisy.

More fool me.

 

No one else saw how

You made me

Curl in

On

Myself.

 

Even my eyes

Rolled back

In their

Ashamed, I blamed myself

For the games you played

Never mind how they maimed me

And shamed me

You trained me

To let the grime trickle off

Like rain

Back to the part of me

That started to

Unravel at the

Centre

 

And then one day released me

When you had spent your lusty glee

And ragged and crying and thin

And crying I ran. You laughed at me

And branded my calf

For all to see your mark.

 

And in the North of England

I ran barefoot up the immobile pavement

Limbs heavy as mountains

February’s icy blanket seeped between my toes

My body dissolved like pumice footsteps

Tiptoeing on the wicker basket

Along the edge of Oblivion.

 

The hands that once

had held me in love

Tore at me in

They, like my own,

Are strange to me.

 

He had chosen fight,

I responded in flight

And I wished I’d had the wings

In actual fact

To fly away from him

But there was only the

Cold of the night and the

Unsympathetic alleyway

To keep me company.

 

 

The yew-tree of his

Co-existence with me

Stood aloof in its

Persistance.

Like the sure resistance

Of the dying.

 

The yew-tree of his

Co-existence with me

Roots deep in some substance

We called love

Holding in the last substance of life

And grasping, grasping

At the air I breathed.

 

And now that the hurt

Has curdled

I wrap myself in the folds

Of paper and curls of pen.

And there, in the vacuum

of the gap between the

Mole and the Marrow

I heal my heart

And write a new home.

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One Response to “Natalie Popow’s SST7 first draft”

  1. mouthypoets July 3, 2014 at 2:47 pm #

    Hi Popow,

    It is always really nice to hear when someone has been working on something for a long time, for those reasons I have some questions I want to ask before I get to giving you feedback, feel free to email me the answers rather than in comment form if you wish:

    -In one sentence, what is the poem about?
    -Explain to me the narrative of this poem in five straight forward bullet points?
    -What do you want this poem to achieve for you?
    -What do you want this poem to achieve for your audience?

    Let me know asap and I will get on more detailed feedback…
    Debris

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