precautions to avoid being drafted

Hey there, herb! This is Alex, dropping by for a review. I was hoping someone else would pick it up for the longest time, but I can't put off the temptation anymore. It's just that it hit so close to home that it seemed impossible to not break down reviewing this. You're incredibly brave for coming up with a piece such as this. I guess it's time now to face my fears, hope this review is at least a tad bit helpful!

a mother’s “sacrifice” is something
i will never know

The struggle is so obviously depicted, at least for someone who knows exactly what you're talking about. I also like the potential duality of the line, as just this one could be used also for women dealing with fertility issues, stating their worries that they might never be able to experience it for themselves. But in the reference that's it's used here, the situation is even more hopeless and that pain adds a lot more depth into the entire thing. It's a simple factual line- but behind it is a dejected feeling, perhaps a complaint to God or a prayer for the impossible. The yearning is beautiful, despite being clearly sad.

i am
still yearning to be sculpted in the image of
a martyr.

To announce one's unconventional identity in the face of threats and thus staying true to yourself, even if it means inviting death- it's so cinematic and bold to read. The narrator's owned up to themselves in a way that's greatly inspiring, seeking to crave that sacrifice for a greater cause. Unexpected, but understandable and legendary.

that we use as a thin veil for the kind of
violent affection-- all consuming and
terrifying--

It's so refreshing to see the narrator call out society's hypocrisy like that. Their own lack of relatability to this toxic masculinity is ought to make such a critic sharp and even more effective at delivery. It feels like their own personal judgement seeps into the narrative, complimenting it rather well. It's attacking, but well deserved- and fueled by a biased point of view yet no one can deny its accuracy.

encroaching on the
serenity that i have tried for so long to
incubate with all my might. so i have
resolved to never become a crusader
and to never harm with these hands.

And we get a vulnerable look at why the narrator seems to have such a negative outlook on masculinity- he hates what it's associated with and how it threatens to destroy the feminine caring traits he has worked so hard to nurture. It's incredibly heartbreaking, and the vow to never resort to himself is pretty satisfying as well.

i do not want to be a father,
to inherit the inherent brashness-- sharp
as the fangs that i was born with,
losing the dulcet voice and
weaver's hands i was nurtured with--

These lines are particularly appealing because the narrator is making an assertive choice. They're choosing the way they were raised over the toxic masculine life they're doomed to. In a way, he's turning down fate's plan for himself and I've seen nothing so individualistic and embracing, yet totally supportive and not malicious. They're not ready to accept the fangs, if it takes away all the feminine traits they associate with themselves and spent so long and much efforts to develop. Shattering <3

i am stuck mourning what will be
a supposed "coming-of-age rite."

What's supposed to be a moment of joy, has become a resentful one given the narrator's sexuality and contrasting identities. You hate as the body begins to betray your mind's desires, yet one is helpless to stop them for nature cannot be stopped in its work and fated occurrences. I feel you immensely here..

bite you had is all but lost once you succumb
to the docile life-- and yet here i am

Craving so deeply something that the ones who have it can't stop listing cons of, is a feeling I'm sure many would relate to. The narrator is unfazed by such warnings, for he is clear in what he wants. Such defiance to submit to conformity is nothing new as the poem has very well established it by now, yet motivates so much. There's something about knowing every reason you shouldn't, yet wanting it just as much if not more- that makes the desire so much more special.

waiting at home for some battle-torn
soldier to glance at the scarf i have
woven for him.

it will fit perfectly around his neck.

The narrator seems suspended in such wait- perhaps the soldier a metaphor for a truly happy lude. It's phrased in a hopeless setting, yet the narrator's confidence speaks otherwise. The reader shall never know if their wish shall ever be fulfilled, but one thing is clear- they'll die waiting for their lover, even if it's unrequited. Love is hopeless, and this poem proves it- if stands tall in the face of impossible, proud to have loved even if not successfully and onesidedly. The imagery is so beautiful and endearing, the narrator being the saviour of the injured soldier without having to resort to violence- filling the role of protector but by healing- in the way they chose in life.

This has been absolutely flawless in every right, now excuse me as I cry my heart out. It was my pleasure reviewing it and I hope to read more such amazing works from you (no matter how much they hurt to read).

Love,
Alex

Hai :3

I'm here for your requested review!! This is such a brutal poem!! I love how it wrestles with masculinity beyond something simple or external, but more as something inherited, feared, resisted, and almost mourned before it even fully arrives. There’s such an aching tension here between nurture and inheritance, between the softness the speaker was given and the violence he worries is waiting inside him. It feels deeply personal, but also mythic?? Like, the poem is about gender and fatherhood, yes, but it’s also about lineage, prophecy, and the terror of becoming something you never wanted to be... So good!!

i am a son raised by women– a mother’s
“sacrifice” is something i will never know
because for being a "man" in touch with
the "feminine"– epicene in nature– i am
still yearning to be sculpted in the image of
a martyr.

LOVE this opening!!

There’s already so much conflict here. The speaker is raised by women, shaped by women, but still feels barred from fully understanding the sacrificial language attached to motherhood ~~ That distance is so interesting because it isn’t dismissive; I'd say it’s reverent, maybe kind of envious. The quotation marks around “sacrifice,” “man,” and “feminine” are doing a lot of work, too!! They make those categories feel unstable, inherited, a little bit imposed by the speaker. Like the speaker is trying to hold them up to the light and ask: who decided this meant what it means?

And “epicene in nature” is SUCH a strong phrase. It gives the poem this strange, theological tone, like the speaker is some in-between creature trying to be sanctified. The yearning “to be sculpted in the image of / a martyr” is gorgeous and painful because martyrdom is still violent, still tied to suffering, still a kind of performance, even when it's revered. He doesn’t want masculinity, but he still wants a sacred wound. Ugh. That’s so good.

in fact, i am so afraid of this “masculinity”
that we use as a thin veil for the kind of
violent affection-- all consuming and
terrifying-- encroaching on the
serenity that i have tried for so long to
incubate with all my might.

This is probably my favorite emotional pivot in the poem. “Violent affection” is such a perfect phrase because it captures the way love, especially patriarchal or paternal love, can be framed as protection while still being suffocating, possessive, or cruel ~~ I love that masculinity is described as a veil too, not the actual thing itself, but a covering for something more frightening underneath!!

^^^ I do wonder about the pacing here, though!! The idea is so strong, but because the syntax stretches across so many clauses, the intensity gets a little tangled. That might be intentional, since the fear itself feels tangled and breathless, but I think you could sharpen the emotional blow by trimming slightly around “the kind of / violent affection.” The phrase is already powerful enough to carry the stanza, and as it stands now, I think it drags out a bit too much.

so i have
resolved to never become a crusader
and to never harm with these hands.

Oh wow, this is devastating in such a captivating way!! “Crusader” brings in this religious violence, which pairs so well with the earlier martyr image that the speaker has felt connected to. The speaker is refusing one sacred role while longing for another, and that contradiction is SO compelling. Like, he does not want to become holy through conquest, but he still wants to be made meaningful through suffering. That’s such a painful distinction, and I like how it appears at this point in the poem instead of somewhere earlier.

instead, i will use them to
bury these paternal ties in
the so-called hearth of fatherhood.
i do not want to be a father,

!!!! This is amazing!!

The “hearth of fatherhood” is such a loaded image ~~ A hearth should be warm, domestic, safe, a bit maternal in its associations, but here it becomes a burial place. I like how you've inverted the traditional maternal expectations of that image, too, by making it belong to fatherhood. That inversion is stunning!! The speaker is beyond rejecting fatherhood because he is now burying the inheritance attached to it. There’s something ceremonial about this, like an anti-rite of passage. I love how the readers feel implicated in that, too, like they have no choice in the matter.

And then the bluntness of “i do not want to be a father” is perfect. It cuts through all the mythic language and gives us the plain, human terror beneath it. Sometimes directness is the sharpest tool, and it really works here!!

to inherit the inherent brashness-- sharp
as the fangs that i was born with,
losing the dulcet voice and
weaver's hands i was nurtured with--
i am stuck mourning what will be
a supposed "coming-of-age rite."

Oh my goodness!! The contrast between “fangs” and “weaver’s hands” is SO lovely. There’s this animal self and this crafted self, this violence supposedly born into him versus the tenderness he was taught ~~ I especially love “weaver’s hands” because it comes back beautifully in the final image of the scarf. That makes the ending feel earned rather than decorative, which is fitting for this kind of climax since it leaves a lot open for interpretation by readers. Love that!!

^^^ I’m really intrigued by “fangs that i was born with,” but I wonder if that slightly complicates the poem’s argument in a way you could lean into more. If the fangs are innate, then the speaker’s fear is not just social inheritance but biological doom, or at least the fear of biological doom. Is he afraid masculinity was taught to him, or that it was always waiting in him? How does that effect how he views both masculinity and femininity? Both are fascinating!! I just wanted a tiny bit more context there because that image is so sharp and central.

and yet here i am
waiting at home for some battle-torn
soldier to glance at the scarf i have
woven for him.

This is such a cinematic image!! The speaker becomes the one waiting, weaving, tending the home, but it doesn’t feel small. It feels tragic and enormous, even. The “battle-torn soldier” also mirrors the masculinity the speaker fears, which makes the ending feel like a confrontation with the very thing he wanted to avoid ~~ Maybe there's history there, a lineage to it. Is he waiting for another man? A father? A future self? A symbol of masculinity coming home from war? I love that this one image can hold all of those possibilities!!

it will fit perfectly around his neck.‎

WHAT an ending!!

It’s so gentle and so sinister at the same time!! A scarf is intimate, handmade, warm, loving. But “around his neck” immediately makes the tenderness feel threatening... It could be comfort, or it could be a noose. That ambiguity is incredible, especially after a whole poem about refusing to harm with these hands. I love how it poses another larger question about creation, too. Can creation ever be wholly innocent? What do we do when it isn't?

Overall, I really love this!! It’s soft and philosophical and violent in such a controlled way. The ending especially is SO strong because it doesn’t resolve any of the fears the narrative has introduced. Amazing work, herb!! ^_^

- Payton