white sheets creased sharp
between their twisted bodies,
muscles straining joints to touch
skin cotton refuses to let
feel let you feel
scars from where the sheets broke glass
last time she loved she won't
look in the mirror anymore —you'd kiss her shoulder if she c(oul)d see
instead she moulds white paint like shaving cream
on canvas letting your beard grow
is useless to her grief
a face she doesn't know
written in response to Mag 37
Related articles
- MUST WATCH: ‘Hir,’ The Poem For Invisible Trans Teens (queerty.com)
- Shaving Cream and Heart Attacks and Learning When To Fear (themillions.com)
- Thursday Poem (3quarksdaily.com)
- Poetry Pairing | Oct. 21, 2010 (learning.blogs.nytimes.com)
- Exclusive: Ted Hughes’s poem on the night Sylvia Plath died (newstatesman.com)
- Responses to Ted Hughes’s “Last letter” (newstatesman.com)
- ‘Lust in action’ (guardian.co.uk)
wow…love this, the immaculate pain and the straining in between the sheets.
well done
Love the crisp whiteness of this piece – through to the ending. Nice.
as always i enjoy how you play with the structure and what it adds to the overall message of your poems…’where the sheets broke glass the last time she loved…nice magpie!
love the form and jilted flow of this. Beautiful images as well. like your style.
a reflection of fear and more,
a cute tale everyone would adore..
beautiful job.
xx
wow- such power in your writing
Beautiful layers and textures.