inertia of moving on

hi helvetia!

i see that this already got two reviews, but i wanted to share my thoughts! this is stuck in my head, and i figured it would possibly help you out!

someone told me ghosts
can’t exist in places without basements;

this is immediately gripping!

there is a very peculiar logic that feels both absurd and devastatingly real in those lines, which is pure poetry. absence shapes presence. that is what this, and the rest of the poem, means. i think florida as a space devoid of hauntings feels satirical (as said), a place where nothing can settle deeply enough to leave a mark. that tracks! it’s a ghost story in its own right, but it is one rooted in something tangible; in pavement, in loss, and in the unspoken grief of erasure.

“this is where it happens,” she said,
pointing to the gut.
“trauma settles like heavy furniture.”

i actually love this! i think it's a bit harder to understand from a first glance, especially with the homely imagery, but it's great!

it is clinical and detached, yet it lands with a heavy and undeniable truth. there’s something inherently ritualistic about this whole stanza. it's like transforming something complex into its barest essence, but also you're losing so much in the process. it speaks to an ongoing attempt to process, to make sense, or to simplify pain into something consumable. that is painfully relatable!

i think the leap from the doctor’s chart to the act of boiling apologies could be expanded more though. it doesn't exactly make sense together. the gut is of course anatomical and medical in this situation, but i don't think it hits as hard as it can. perhaps you could add a sensory detail or a reflection to bridge the two. i wish to see how it ties back into the family motif going on here.

last year, i tried to learn chess.
i never got past the pawns;
they remind me too much of
my cousin’s funeral.

this is the stanza that has the most impact to the narrative, but i personally think it could be stronger. for example, the pawns are such a potent symbol, but their connection to the funeral isn't there. i could see that they are nameless/faceless pieces meant to serve one purpose, yeah, but what does that mean here?

this is a wonderful stanza outside of that though! it’s a moment where grief and guilt intertwine, where even a simple game becomes a reminder of how people must navigate the weight of what’s been left behind. grief is funny like that. it doesn't need to have a rhyme or reason to be like that. i think the interplay of imagery and theme is just perfect too; the ghosts, the trauma, the pawns. all are physical stand-ins for the intangible emotions we feel. again, very real!

anyways i loved this! this poem doesn’t try to explain itself, and that’s its greatest strength; you don't need to say more. that is a hard thing to master.

best,
dissonance

Hai :3

This is such a layered, haunting poem!! It's like each section feels like its own distinct yet interconnected vignette, with so much depth packed into such a small space. I love how you manage to blend the mundane and the profound!! It's almost satirical in how you write slice of life, which creates this beautiful push-and-pull between external observations and personal introspection!! I have so many thoughts about how symbolic everything is, and that is so great!!

someone told me ghosts
can’t exist in places without basements;
that’s why no one ever talks
about hauntings in florida.

Aaa, this caught my eye right away!!

The specificity of ghosts and basements paired with Florida's lack of them immediately sets the tone ~~ Like, that's such a biting commentary!! The mention of your mother hits like a ton of bricks too; such a subtle, devastating way to imply loss and unresolved grief. I wonder if you could hint at the transient nature of relationships though. It could tie in the themes of impermanence. Especially considering disconnection within a family like that too!!

The next stanza is amazing too!! Trauma as heavy furniture is SUCH a vivid and painful metaphor, and it’s one of those lines that sticks in your ribs. The doctor’s clinical tone juxtaposed with the narrator's emotional processing (turning apologies into broth !!!!) is masterful. I have no notes, it’s perfection. If anything, you could play with the boiling imagery a bit more. I have to ask: what does boiling down apologies do? Is it soothing? Is it destructive? I am curious!!

all those little plastic figurines
lined up like an audience,
waiting for someone to say
the wrong thing.

!!! This ending!!

It's devastating in the best way possible ~~ Like, the shift from chess to the funeral is so subtle at first, but then it hits like a freight train. The pawns as an audience sets a really unique tone too, as if they are just faces in a crowd. I guess they are!! Funerals are hard to write about, but you've done well here!! The tension of waiting for someone to say the wrong thing mirrors the kind of grief and awkwardness that’s so palpable at funerals, or anywhere with many emotions.

Each section stands strong on its own!! Together though, they form this haunting triptych of grief, family, and trauma!! It's wonderful how you capture the way even the most mundane things get tangled up in grief. There is this dry, almost sardonic edge, but it's still a beautiful poem outside of that!! Amazing work!! <3

- Payton