A Battlefield of Linoleum

arguments and alcohol.

Finally. Spare seconds

On the cool, ordered squares of linoleum

In the white light of the kitchen

While she puts her son to sleep.

The crack of my beer-can

Was like a sniper rifle;

It revealed my position to her

Through the closed bedroom door.

And it gave her the necessary seconds to prepare

A witty bullet between her teeth.

Pray she doesn't bite down,

    snap the casing, sprackle the gunpowder

      through those teeth, boom syllables of hurt

         across the kitchen.

I position the beercan quietly on the kitchenette.

One by one my fingers release

The cool little aluminum barrel.

My eyes pray to the quiet filament in the kitchen light-bulb

That her bedroom door won't swing open,

That she won't march down the hallway carpet,

That the artillery of her teeth won't

Lodge shrapnel in the bones of my final jaw.

Reviews

[spiritwind]

I saved you for my last read of the day
like a treat
And what a treat it is--this is different in layout from the last one I read from you. A wise choice.
We all bring different lives to the table of literature--so forgive me if what I see here is different from what you intended.
To me this is the final seconds before disaster--before a brutal beating--before a bloody shooting
she puts HER son to sleep
the crack of the beer can like a sniper rifle
IT REVEALED MY POSITION TO HER
beware--tread lightly woman--I am here and I've been drinking

Then the warning:
And it gave her the necessary seconds to prepare

A witty bullet between her teeth.

Pray she doesn't bite down,

snap the casing, sprackle the gunpowder

through those teeth, boom syllables of hurt

across the kitchen.

She better watch what she says--if things explode it will be HER fault for saying the wrong thing
" I position the beercan quietly on the kitchenette.
One by one my fingers release
The cool little aluminum barrel."
The spine tingling terror of such PRECISE movements
and the allusion to a rifle's barrel.

Oh he prays she doesn't come out of the bedroom
prays hard she doesn't start things with those word bullets in her mouth because if she does... his will be the final say.

How's that for seeing your poem through a different set of eyes? Is it a good thing that we can write one thing and release another?

You are such a poetic giant... can't wait to read your works again and again.

[Baby Ricochet]

"The crack of my beer can was like a sniper rifle; it revealed my position to her" Cool

[Ana Soo]

You have a good literary technique that goes beyond the simple and evident intention of words or actions. Good piece, James!

[Butters]

!! This one I like. Although it would appear you have some sort of kitchen fetish, lol. (Alot of your poem take place in a kitchen) Very well written. I like the symbalism here.

[KAOlmsted]

Whoa dude...seriously? A witty bullet between her teeth? How f*****g awesome are you? I don't actually know what "my final jaw" means, though...is that a southern thing? Because for all of my faults and flaws, there is none larger than I am a Yankee *laugh* I need to pace myself with you...

-kimmer

oh *laugh* so are you, sort of...why was I thinking Mississippi? Never mind...sillykimmer...still don't know what final jaw means, though...

[James William Dyer]

it's meant to imply the last words I'll get to speak, final jaw--a strange way of putting it, but basically the idea that your jaw will be used one last time. I live in Northern Michigan, but have lived in the south.

[KAOlmsted]

Thanks for the explanation, as you can see I am all manner of confused today *laugh* You have serious talent, dude...alphabetic masturbation aside, you should be published (my two cents) So happy you found our little community.

[James William Dyer]

I've never sent anything out, I'm thinking of maybe designing hand-bound books and selling them. That sounds like true artistry to me, large scale publishers are a joke. They've destroyed poetry, I would feel shame if I were accepted into their circle......but they could prolly buy me of ;)