the rape

shadows hang in chandeliers, in the corners, catching the little

flies of light coming from the oil lamp on the beside table. he stands, she

sits – both are silent, except she is trembling a little, her shoulders

hiccuping up and down. she holds her hand to her mouth, and doesn't cry, she

never cries.

 

 

the wallpaper with its tiny, clutched flowerprint is yellow and sags like an old map,

bunched up in skirts. the whole room smells of him now, and he stands

in the shadows by the door rigid and smiling like a nutcracker with his painted eyes

and russian beard. rain pecks at the window, like a bald, unborn chick nipping the white

shrug of its egg.

 

 

her lace dress has been replaced in a hurry, haphazardly, sleeves sliding down

like lowered sails, her fingers in doldrums, her lips pursed and desperate

he will not go away and she can feel him looking at her, hands in his pockets,

the cold of his pocketwatch against her back, white back, nubs of spine

rolling up like dice, the trace of her skin, he can feel it on his fingers, sticky nectar,

her body in tetnus, padlock of her mouth, his fingers working

like pickpockets.

 

 

outside, the streetlights come out like débutantes, wearing their pale yellow

eveninghats and he coughs, opens the door, says something. she rolls

her hands into tight fists. the shadows are

black and folded

 

 

she shivers and bites the inside of her cheek and the motorcars pass by

underneath the windows, black and hurrying, like doctors

with bad news.

 

Reviews

[Penulis Kecil]

You have a beautiful way with words. This is a tremendously powerful piece. My favourite parts were the lines "her body in tetnus, padlock of her mouth, his fingers working
like pickpockets" and your final stanza there. It really feels like the perfect ending!

One of the things that could improve this, though, is a little bit of work on a few areas where the punctuation is either 'off' or missing completely.

The stanza,
"her lace dress has been replaced in a hurry, haphazardly, sleeves sliding down
like lowered sails, her fingers in doldrums, her lips pursed and desperate
he will not go away and she can feel him looking at her, hands in his pockets,
the cold of his pocketwatch against her back, white back, nubs of spine
rolling up like dice, the trace of her skin, he can feel it on his fingers, sticky nectar,
her body in tetnus, padlock of her mouth, his fingers working
like pickpockets."
for example, is entirely one sentence, and takes me away from the piece a bit. I feel like there's a period missing after "her lips pursed and desperate".


I absolutely loved, "he will not go away and she can feel him looking at her, hands in his pockets,
the cold of his pocketwatch against her back, white back, nubs of spine
rolling up like dice," but the "back, white back" pulled me right out of the rhythm and the 'feel' of the poem.

"the trace of her skin, he can feel it on his fingers," has the potential to be a great line, but, for me, something about the wording clashes with the rest of the poem. I'm not sure if it's because for the most part, the poem is focused on the woman's experience (and of her experience of him) or if it's related to a grammatical preference, though.

All in all, though, this is a great piece of writing.

[Charles]

Great example of Ekphrasis... what is the painting? Really good observations, metaphors, similes, imagry. Good writing.