thank you for the review!
one thing—i feel guilty because i did not stop and help them even though i could have. even though i justify it by saying there are “a hundred” people i’ve seen just like them, i can’t help feeling guilty. is this not clear?
Poetry / Bangkok, July 2008
here are contorted angles of hands
that once hammered silver
now soldered together in prayer
her knotted grey hair
a birds’ nest of ash and distraction
her son’s fingers tangled in unwashed wool
chest reluctant to drink the soot
and smog of Bangkok haze
mother and child, stones eroded
by sidewalk traffic
worn smooth by the harsh
transparency of averted eyes
here is the collapsible universe
of her empty pockets
throat coated with honey
to soothe the wounds
of the city’s reply—silence
here are her colorless lips
on his clammy forehead
her cracked knees
at the altar of concrete
if I could have slowed that river
of carefully aimed footsteps
my voice resonant with intention
to better reveal their vulnerability
or illuminate the scene
for sympathetic strangers
I would have knelt beside her
to untangle the nest of her hair
with my soft fingers
to bathe the boy
in the coolness of my palms
and the gentleness of my arms
to cleanse the tears condensed
on his closed eyelids
with the pad of my thumb
lift the arching branches
of his fragile ribs
with my own breath
I could have dropped 10-bhat coins
to the sidewalk
heard her mumble khop khun kha
thank you
to a pair of passing boots
but I could not stop
could not slow
for I had seen their faces in a hundred others
her fingers on a hundred hands
the cracked knees and hunched shoulders
of a hundred beggars
they were objects
as street signs, cobwebs
power lines were objects
obstacles
to be navigated
around or over
we did not look one another in the eye
for we were ashamed
when like the rest, I flowed past
carried along by my guilt
and the terrible power
with which my gaze shifted away
to where cold water and ingratiating smiles waited
and my feet, in turn, followed
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Lin reviewed Version 1 -
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Very well written piece full of pathos yet flowing with the rush of the crowd.
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jebozid reviewed Version 1 -
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‘worn smooth by the harsh transparency of averted eyes’ – transparency doesn’t work for me, it seems too forced, just for the sake of sounding good, while losing the meaning to me
‘with my soft fingers’ – I would lose “soft”, because it gives the impression that you are thinking of yourself (noticing what your fingers are like), when you’re obviously concentrated on the woman (and her child). This is also true for “coolness of my palms and the gentleness of my arms”.
‘of a hundred beggars’ – I would avoid using the word “beggars”, because it’s clear by now who they are (you’ve created that picture without actually using the word) and it is distracting and really just stating the obvious.
‘they were objects
as street signs,’ – great, love the word choice and emotion it carries
‘power lines’ – I could not decipher what you meant by that and what you wanted to say (possibly due to a lack of punctuation and/or randomish linebreaks)
‘we did not look one another in the eye’ – so long and clumsy that it breaks the flow here, I would shorten it to something like “our eyes didn’t meet” or alike.
‘carried along by my guilt’ – I believe you haven’t given us the reason for this guilt. Intentional?
Overall, excellent word choices, great pictures, good rhythm and flow. I like your writing style. Enjoyed.
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