Published September 6, 2008
Jane’s Animals
My shoes clap like a baby’s hands
as I enter the new house. In San Diego
we never had wooden floors and
rows of green, summer foliage
flapping against my bedroom window.
I think about writing a poem as I
leaf out of my room to the humidity
of corridor air, like rolling head-
first down the stairs.
The knob to the attic is cold and
wet. Inside, Jane’s dusty horses
glare at me with tired, fusty eyes;
they’re begging for mercy, for freedom,
for Jane, locked inside their cage. I
look out the window: it’s raining,
and the towers of New York are corned
in black clouds.
Those horses and bears and dogs don’t
know what’s outside, don’t know how
good their lives are. In cool, crisp mornings,
I wake up to the azure shadows of dawn. They
don’t seem to care that the sun always
rises on them first, sets on them
last.
Points:
Time spent:
IP address:
Canary word: Present
Possible AI signals:
Original Text:
Are you sure you want to delete this comment? This cannot be undone.
Mark this comment as a review? Points will be awarded to the poster.
Your comment was posted, but it wasn’t long enough to count as a review. Reviews need about four complete sentences (at least 250 characters). Try writing another review that explains your thoughts in more detail — the author will appreciate it, and you’ll earn points for it.
I think you're trying a little too hard to input imagery in the poem, if you can take some of it out and make the rest more subtle it would be a nicer read. All the same, I enjoyed the poem as it's fresh and new than other poems I've been reading lately. Well done.
This is very good poem, and im sorry if i was a bit harsh. I hope i helped