Unspoken

I really like this. I couldn't find much flaw in the actual content. It's definitely original. I love the descriptions at the end. The quote, "I don't care if you are," was a little awkward at first, since I had no idea what it was about, and while the sentence isn't supposed to be finished, maybe you can make that more clear by typing, "I don't care if you're ..." or something like that. The punctuation was good, only I'd change the comma after "weeks" in the 4th stanza to a dash, but that's just me. Well done. =]

Would he understand love once more,
its wraith-like fingers around your throat?

"Your"? Who is the speaker addressing? That was sudden and out of place.

small knife sounds

I bet there's a better word or phrase that can describe those sounds.

I half expect him to turn off the light.

I brought him home, another boy

The hims are too close here because you're talking about two different people. Perhaps: "I brought another home, another boy..."

Great stuff, as usual. Now, whenever I try to crit your stuff, it usually comes out sounding silly and making no sense. I don't have much to say about this one. I think this did an excellent job of carrying out the "unspoken" theme in subtle but effective ways. *overly enthusiastic thumbs up*

Colleen

My father steps into the room sideways
as if we are passing each other in a tight space.

Maybe, "My father steps sideways into the room", otherwise you should place a comma after sideways.

You mispelled afternoon, "afternnon".

In the second stanza, nearly every line begins with some form of "I", though I admit, I'm just being nit-picky.

small knife sounds

Is the knife small, or is the sound the knife is making small? You should consider choosing another word.

Again here,

Those small mother and father voices mousing through thin walls

Perhaps a word like "hushed", rather than small would be better suited? Good stuff, as usual.

Cameron

Guys,


Thanks for the suggestions. I ditched the seasonal musings and tried to tighten the light imagery. Anyway, here's my second draft based on the suggestions you gave me.


Best,
Brad


unspoken

My father steps into the room sideways
as if we are passing in a tight space. I am 17, barely balanced
on a step stool, stapling band flyers to a cottage cheese ceiling.

"I don’t care if you are," he begins,
and I know where this is going,
what signals have confused him.
I half expect him to turn off my overhead light,
have this face-to-face in the comfort of the dark.

I brought home a boy
whose lips had tasted my own. My jeans,
with their tatters and slits, spill inky secrets
and adulterated air over my legs. The muscles
in my father's jaw are working up the spit to ask
who else they have touched.

It’s his confusion that I love,
how he must have worked at this for weeks,
soldering circuits at his basement workbench, driving home from the office.
Those muted mother and father voices mousing through thin walls.

I want to put his mind at ease, ask him
if he can understand love once more,
its wraith-like fingers around his throat?
He’s brushing his teeth beneath the yellow bathroom light,
thinking Liberace, thinking Village People. Let him stew.
Let him eat dinner off a gleaming white plate,
offering no verdict but the small knife sounds and
the grinding of teeth.

Yes I like the edit better. Everything is now perfecto! I really liked how it had such a story like meaning, yet a poets voice. That's often hard to do and you pulled it off wonderfully.

*I half expect him to turn off my overhead light,
have this face-to-face in the comfort of the dark.*

This was one of my favorite lines. The face-to-face comfort in the dark part can bring all readers into this poem. I often would like that comfort, and I'm SURE my parents would.

*Let him eat dinner off a gleaming white plate,
offering no verdict but the small knife sounds and
the grinding of teeth.*

This was my other favorite part. As you already know, I love the way you end things. lol. So congradulations, I repeat my self over and over. I guess a "dat was da bomb Brad!" is in order. lol

-Rieda

He’s brushing his teeth beneath the yellow bathroom light,
thinking Liberace, thinking Village People.

Was that really necessary?

Fantastic edit!

Colleen