Thursday, August 24, 2006

Before the Hotel Blackout

we held to each other like cuticles to the nail
and brushed the hours aside
blonde hair, straw broom—

words are heavier since,
stumbling down
from the lip
collecting like hail in a lead pan at the floor
to be thawed, refried, and leftover
in stained tupperware casing

before the hotel burned to the dirt
our hands were like water
yet we stood still to watch it
blazing and kicking up light
as if it were already morning-

1 Comments:

Blogger A l y s s a said...

Great poem.

Am in favor of the whole second stanza. It's just wonderful.

The simile in the third stanza of 'our hands were like water' seems more abstract than any of the other imagery, and leaves the reader at a bit of a loss. You explain the other comparisons, like heavy words like hail, holding close like nail to cuticle. What does it mean to have hands like water?

However, the closing two lines are esp grand. The poem opens and closes in brilliant form. Great poem.

5:15 PM  

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