Young Writers Society

Mind the edges; take with salt.

This is an exceptional, and old, theme. I appreciate your attempt at its retelling.

However, to semantics, I raise a few issues.

Two hundred forty-three years
after the British opened fire
on colonists, blood trails
down the streets
of Boston once again.

Try removing "on colonists." Brevity can be confusing, but it can also be empowering. In this case, it may be thought-provoking. I should think to look at the title, and surmise for myself where the blood flows whence, should you not explicitly say whose it is.

I dislike the word choice of "trails." I feel blood should ooze, slither, soak, dribble, gush, et cetera. This is entirely subjective, of course.

Otherwise a capable, well-written stanza, but I would break between "Boston" and "once again."

America is temporarily
deafened, sifting through
the rubble, the echoes.

The poet writes breaks. Often the poet appreciates them more than the reader. Myself, I do not love your breaks here. You cut off too many sentences. Perhaps you are attempting to stop my thought; convey solemnity. Instead you annoy me.

Politicians, writers,
SWAT teams, artists,
withdrawing to their shells
that claim “We’re Americans;
of course we have it
all together”; each
individual trying to find
a reason, a resolution.

And so we have jumped forward 243 years. My mind, however, needs step back and appreciate that temporal gap. Once it has, I wonder why Americans' shells are claiming things at all. Have Americans written upon these shells? Do the shells literally speak? Here, I would appreciate less ambiguity.

"We are Americans." Given the content, do you think this deserves its own line? Overall, I like this stanza's breaks much better than the last. But for that. It could benefit from its own line.

Your message is showing now. Have you revealed it too soon? Or too explicitly?

But all the epitaphs
in the world cannot expose
the guilty fingerprints
on those handmade bombs.

Of course they can't. What epitaphs expose guilt? This I perceive as breaking logic.

A small crowd formed
around the local gym’s TV
screen this afternoon,
video footage of the explosions
on replay: unsuspecting
normality,
sudden smoke,
repeat.

Remove "screen" from "TV screen." Also, on "unsuspecting normality, sudden smoke, repeat": you are wordy here. "normality, then sudden smoke." Done enough for me. The point is still made, is it not? If there are two bombs, repeat the two lines for effect. Three bombs? Repeat again.

I do not like to remove superfluous words myself - I often love the extra verbiage I manage to squeeze around my sentences. But sometimes I ask myself, "can I remove this without changing the meaning?" And when I answer yes, if I want to feel like Ayn Rand, I remove it.

The numbness I felt
was covered with polite nods,
exchanged pleasantries,
when all I really wanted
to say was, Don’t you know?
Three people died
today.

"The numbness I felt," "was covered with," "exchanged," "when," "was." All of those words feel unnecessary to me. Emotion is quick, terse. This stanza is not.
An exercise: Remove everything. Feel an emotion. Write one sentence. That sentence is probably longer than the emotion. The emotion is one word. Anger. Sorrow. Hate. Sympathy. When you feel it, it is not even a word. It is faster than that. (Although some Psychologists would argue that point... but I digress.)
If, in this stanza, each line was just one word, I would feel the emotion, and even the American within me who shrugs at tragedy would feel it. But not as it is.

Instead I dressed
in my tennis shoes, t-shirt,
workout shorts, the same way
participants of the Boston Marathon
dressed this morning. I walked
up the stairs, evenly, one
at a time, to the upstairs track,
just as the residents
of the Walking City ambled
down the front steps
of their homes to gather
in Copley Square.
And I began to run,
fast, because this was a race -
this was a race that ended
with the taste of iron
in my mouth.

"this was a race that ended/with the taste of iron/in my mouth." I find this highly unexceptional. When one runs, one often tastes iron, in victory as in defeat. Remove the whole last sentence. "I began to run. Fast. Because this was a race."

So who are you, racing at the TV screen drama that unfolded in Boston? And why?
You are touched, and the poem shows it. I appreciate that. I appreciate the sentiment.

But there is more to a story in how it is told. The breaks are odd to me; sometimes just off altogether. I like the story. I wrote a long review. I would love to see this revised - not necessarily revised to just my own specifications. Revised to the emotion you felt, no longer encased in words and flashed on my screen, but reaching to me, as it longs to do; as I long to feel it.

I am not a reviewer who says "great poem." But great sentiment; great passion; great potential. Maybe you'll let me see something like this again.