[Simon Hunt]

(revision)
The third time that we broke the bed
it happened at your mother’s.
Perhaps it’s better left unsaid
just how we broke the others,
but on this last occasion, books
piled high were all our druthers--
with just our minds astir.

The hundredth time I dreamt of you
was different from the others.
The yearning ache was nothing new;
perhaps all dreams are brothers,
but grief not lust had set its hooks
in me, the kind that smothers.
I woke, and there you were.


(original)
The third time that we broke the bed
it happened at your mother’s.
Perhaps it’s better left unsaid
just how we broke the others,
but on this last occasion, books
piled high were all our druthers
and just our minds astir.

The hundredth time I dreamt of you
was different from the others.
The yearning ache was nothing new;
perhaps all dreams are brothers,
but lust would not have loosed the hooks
in me of grief that smothers.
I woke, and there you were.

[Susan McLean]

Simon, the sound of this is beautiful, and that takes me past some mystery about what is really going on. I like the hint of humor in S1L3-4. I'm not exactly sure how piling up books broke the bed, but I don't need to know that. In trying to make sense of the grief in S2, I hypothesized that the "you" had been lost and is now found again. How grief has hooks and smothers at the same time is a bit confusing to picture. I am guessing that both the hooks and the smothering are metaphoric, but the metaphor seems mixed.

Susan

[Andrew Frisardi]

Hi Simon,

This is a beautiful lyric. I’m not sure exactly what it means but I don’t need to. It resonates.

I do find this section strained and unlyrical:

on this last occasion, books
piled high were all our druthers

“Occasion” in this context seems stilted for a love poem. And “books / piled high were all our druthers” is clunky. Is “druthers” actually used that way? I have never heard it, and the coinage feels forced for the rhyme.

Best,

Andrew

[Alexandra Baez]

Simon, I agree with Susan and Andrew that the sound of this is beautiful and captivating. I like the form, and good on you for the tight meter and the mirrored heterometer (my word) of the stanzas’ last lines, which both help make this poem click.

You had me tightly engaged through L5, but then, like Andrew, I got tangled up in “druthers.” I also don’t understand the last line of S1; the syntax seems off.

In S2, I’m tightly engaged again through L4, but then you get abstract and general--and seemingly rhyme-driven with “smothers.”

If you could stick to the tightness of your best lines throughout this whole poem, it would be a hard-edged, deeply satisfying gem through and through.

[Simon Hunt]

Revision posted.

Thank you, friends, for expressing what you like in this one and for helping me identify some spots to tinker. I'm glad the nonce-form and sounds seem to be working to some degree, and I wonder if the small changes above constitute any improvement. I note your hesitation about the "druthers" line (2 of you, anyway), but I'm still tickled enough by it to keep it for now.

Thanks again, Susan, Andrew, and Alexandra.

[W T Clark]

What if you dropped the d from "kind"?

[Simon Hunt]

Cameron: Thanks. That would be a big change; I'll think about it--maybe "its kin"...

[Alexandra Baez]

I wonder if the small changes above constitute any improvement.

Yes, they do. I'd put commas after "grief" and "lust." And I do think you could go deeper with the improvements.

[Simon Hunt]

Thanks, AB. I'm considering some other changes.

[Jim Ramsey]

Originally Posted by W T Clark

What if you dropped the d from "kind"?

Hi Simon,

Just as a mention without too much deliberation on my part, when I think about Cameron's suggestion, I think of grief as a different kin from the other kind of kin that is implied in the poem. The setting being at "your mother's" implies familial relationships, the typical type of kinship. Grief on the other hand would be a different type of smothering kin, especially if it won't let go, which is often the biggest downside of grief. Just dropping the "d" would personify grief and I think would be better than the choice you mention in your follow-up comment of a didactic lead-in with "it's grief."

addendum***** as you realized, Simon, I garbled this comment, and meant to say "its kin" instead of "it's grief."
I was first distracted and then rushed in posting it, but somehow you made sense of my mess anyway. Thanks.

All the best,
Jim