Tears

Cherry

By KateReamer

Sat, 16 Nov 2013
  • 3037 reads
10 comments
 

It all comes back in the shower

as I stare at the water 

running down my overgrown breasts,

my gargatuan stomach

and onto the metal floor

It clings like tears

to hair products, bodywash;

bath salts I will never use

Drip drip drip

Take a sip of the pain

feel it burn a track into

my ruined intestines

 

I step out; blue toes on

white mat

and slip into underwear

It's raw; singed

with blood 

Forgotten menstruation

 

I walk

I don't dry my hair

I like the way it

leaves the scent of 

water-blown passionfruit

on every aisle

 

The bedroom smells like me

It should smell like him

but it doesn't

His smell left with his 

Marlborough Lights

Dilmah

and corduroy jackets

 

I would wait for a man 

I do not know 

to come in;

to stain the walls with his

strong warm hands

his strawberry lubricant

and his humid smiles

but instead I sit down

turn on the screeen

turn off the volume

and watch Miley Cyrus twerking

on cracked digital TV

 

Sometime, long after,

I will put on a pot of tea,

watch it smoke; 

then, slowly, set the meal

cooking: three cups of two minute noodles

one for me 

and one for her

Serve it with two teaspoons

of tears

 

 

 

 

Certificate 18
Poem

Comments

Submitted by scratch on

I like this poem very much, there are some very good images and lines to savour.  There is a strength and depth of feeling too which shows confidence.  Well done.

I'm less certain about the title.  It seems unnecessarily contrived.  Why not simply call it "Tears" and use 'tears' again at the close especially as you use 'tears' explicity in the sixth line?

I'm not sure the added ambiguity brings anything extra to this already good poem or am I missing something?

 

Submitted by KateReamer on

Hi scratch

Thanks for taking the time to read and comment!  I'm glad you enjoyed it and yes, I will have a think about the title, as you make a very good point there. 

Kate 

Submitted by Denzella on

Hello Kate,

 

Scratch and Bear know what they are talking about.  I do not.  But I thought this was a good poem expressing a lost love.  Believe me, dear, you're better off without him if he smokes in the bedroom.  As I always said to my girls when they had lost a love Dogs are for life...Men can be just for Christmas.  I pride myself on my sensitivty.  Only kidding, Kate. A most enjoyable poem.

Moya

 

Submitted by KateReamer on

Hi moya

yes, I do like that! "dogs are for life, men are just for Christmas". 

Thanks for reading, I really do appreciate it.

Kate 

Submitted by Bee on

You really got the feelings over in writing this. 

I enjoyed the read.

Bee

Submitted by KateReamer on

Glad you thought so, bee, thank you!

Kate 

Submitted by VeraClark on

Hi Kate, your poem is really potent. It has lots of sensual appeal. I would personally cut the last stanza. It didn't bring a bigger blow to me. The words were superfluous as you had made your point. The rest of your piece is very tightly knitted and the last verse seems irrelevant to the emotion.

 

Submitted by KateReamer on

Hi Vera, thank you for commenting! I really appreciate your time.  Thanks for telling me what you thought, it's always so useful to have constructive criticism too, and I so wish people did it more often!  I think I will leave that stanza in for now as I think the poem is a bit incomplete after the second-to-last stanza, but I see what you mean and may replace it at some stage.

Thanks! :) 

Kate 

Submitted by blackjack-davey on

no one's mentioned the miscarriage or abortion-- the table laid for three? have I misunderstood this piece-- the ruined gargantuan belly and swollen breasts?

interesting the man with the strawberry lubricant  could be either lover or doctor

corduroy jackets can be pretty potent... especially with a patch on the sleeves

 

 

 

Submitted by KateReamer on

Hi blackjack-davey, and thanks for reading!

I intended the woman to be pregnant, and she still is ;) 

Kate