"God gave us memories that we might have roses in December"
J. M. Barrie
I.
Two days in, they gave your brain
room to breathe, and no matter
what mom said,
I always knew I'd seen the missing
crescent of your skull.
No,
missing is the wrong word;
it sat on the bedside table
at the bottom of a mason jar,
some child's mischievous grin,
a narrow, bitten moon resting
nonchalantly against the glass,
out of place
but incontrovertibly
present, a slice of rind
screaming for the orange.
Prompt: I want to write about ______, but I don't know how.
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6 comments:
nathan -- this is very powerful. i know that you asked for critique so you can keep digging at it ... hmmm ... maybe a different title?
i love the epigraph.
and i love that the smile is in the jar at the bedside.
wow.
As a former writing instructor, I can only say that I think Carolee is correct. As an individual who is the you that you address in the poem, I have always wondered what my siblings felt and thought about that experience. I know now, and thank you.
Elizabeth
The images -- the mischievous grin, the moon, the slice of rind -- make this piece all the more poignant. The spacing of your couplets also adds to the effect to. I think maybe the title could change, but that's about all. Lovely piece.
-Nicole
Stunning imagery and poignant thoughts. I agree with the others that the title could be changed but that's it - this is an eloquent piece.
Wow! Weird! In the best way!
Wow, this piece was so clear and powerfully written. I actually know someone who had this procedure done...but they kept the bone within a pocket of flesh, created in his abdomen...gives me the chills just thinking about it!
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