Thread: The Ring on My Finger in a Sidewalk Crack

The Ring on My Finger in a Sidewalk Crack

Now
the Florida coast is missing me.
All I can think about are un-mechanical waves,
froth, grains, in a tumbling grind,
like my face against railroad tracks
in middle America. The thrift of wind makes steel
wet with my body, ballast splayed
everywhere, tiny bumps from streets I traced
to sleep here flatly.
I am sparse and dry. I am a diorama.
Splinters of engines wail through my skin
with accordion motion. The snore of metal,
the quiver of track beds. I am just a groan

there.
Now it’s Sunday drooling on dead grass,
and even church bells clanging distantly
sound like factories.
It’s not that I don’t love plains and plains
and plains. It isn’t that balance-beaming on rails doesn’t
comfort me. Or suffocation by whistle,
the lick of sand particles wedged in crevices,
in my words. One body fastened.
One rumble for one
permanent street. What it is

is
I am missing, water through telescope
eyes is still missing, being drawn and then erased
like a screamed breath on the tracks.
Making unfixed footprints,
the oiled sunset when my eyes are quiet,
loves me until there is

transfer.

All I can think about are un-mechanical waves

Not really a fan of "un-mechanical." It's awkward, and I don't really get what you mean. Not that understanding every nuance is necessary, but what would a "mechanical wave" be?

froth, grains, in a tumbling grind,
like my face against railroad tracks
in middle America. The thrift of wind makes steel
wet with my body, ballast splayed
everywhere,

I like this bit.

tiny bumps from streets I traced
to sleep here flatly.

And... you lost me again.

I am sparse and dry. I am a diorama.
Splinters of engines wail through my skin
with accordion motion. The snore of metal,
the quiver of track beds. I am just a groan

there.

"I am just a groan there." That is too perfect. Love it.

Now it’s Sunday drooling on dead grass,
and even church bells clanging distantly
sound like factories.
It’s not that I don’t love plains and plains
and plains. It isn’t that balance-beaming on rails doesn’t
comfort me. Or suffocation by whistle,
the lick of sand particles wedged in crevices,
in my words. One body fastened.
One rumble for one
permanent street. What it is

is
I am missing, water through telescope
eyes is still missing, being drawn and then erased
like a screamed breath on the tracks.
Making unfixed footprints,
the oiled sunset when my eyes are quiet,
loves me until there is

transfer.

All of the second half here is brilliant.

I really like it when you write in more concrete images because you're just so damn good at it. Ambiguity has its place, of course, but sometimes it leaves everything a bit too muddled and I feel like I'm fumbling in the darkness for a light switch that isn't even there. This piece, except for the two awkward bits I pointed out, I think is one of the best I've seen from you. Excellent work here. I'd love to read more like this.

Thank you very much for your comments. Regarding the two spots you pointed out, when I say "un-mechanical" I'm meaning there is freedom there. It's not made to do something. They don't have to act in a specific manner. It's also supposed to be a break in the mechanical sounds that make this poem, metaphorically speaking. In that, it's also showing a sort of freedom. It's pretty hard to explain without going through and deconstructing the entire poem, but I hope that helps. To each their own.

The second part, I will think about in revision. Maybe find a better way to convey what I wanted. There's a theme of being permanent vs. being temporary. That line is talking about carrying things with you forever and having them consume you. The idea is that the ballast is made of all these things.

Hope that helps! Thanks again.

"The snore of metal,
the quiver of track beds. I am just a groan

there.
Now it’s Sunday drooling on dead grass,
and even church bells clanging distantly
sound like factories."

I love the imagery there. One thing I will say about this poem is you have excellent word choice with your verbs. I love the personification as well.