i bleed secrets
(sometimes when i am alone
i mourn the things i could have should have done)
by the 7 train local, going to times sq-42st,
there is a boy with no legs
who plays the drums and nods his head
to the music he creates.
(new york makes me see things
i never could before)
we have alley cats living in the backyard,
in a cardboard box that housed a television
once. when it rains the box folds in on itself
and the cats mewl like babies.
(sometimes i throw them bread scraps
and sometimes i don't)
my television only plays moroccan
music, high lilting voices serenading
in arabic and soccer. when my father
and my uncles are over, they inhabit
our living room and sip scalding mint tea
and argue over a ref's bad call.
aweeliwahdi!, seereeti khraa!
(what the hell ref! go shit yourself!)
(their voices blend together
and sound like a harmony of curses)
in rabat, my grandmother's house smells
like laundry and harira. there are ants
sometimesthat wander up staircases
and once when i was 12, i fell asleep
with a turkey sandwich near my legs
and a trail of ants were crawling up
and down my body, searching for
some sort of nourishment that
was never there.
(i screamed and jumped and spit
out crushed ant corpses and sobbed
in disgustbut i was 12 and i was
allowed to cry over little things then)
as a baby, i never cried and my mother's
friends called me pretty to her face and
strange behind her back and it's true though
i am pretty strange.
(i never cried because it's hard to hear
other's whispers when you are wailing)
maybe when i'm older, a little bit older,
i'll understand why i tell stories that
aren't true and bleed secrets that aren't mine.
(maybe i'll know why i remember those who've forgotten me)
Oooh, this is fun. I absolutely love most of your images, and there's just a couple places that I think need a bit of work, mostly in your language.
4th stanza, the image of the cardboard TV box is great - it's clunkily worded, though, with "housed a television/once", I think. TV boxes tend to have pictures and logos and brand names painted on the box, so maybe something about a faded image or a rubbed off brand name would work better? Same stanza, "mewl" or "mew"? Also, do you want "babies" or "kittens" to describe the "mewl/mew"?
9th stanza, "disgustbut" I'm guessing should be "disgust, but"^^ Same stanza, I want to move the "then", so it reads:
but i was 12 then and i was
allowed to cry over little things.
It rolls off the tongue a bit easier, I think, and fits with the rather rolling rhythm you've already established.
Something in the 10th stanza bothers me, but I'm having trouble pin-pointing it. I'm pretty sure it's rhythmical and in the last two lines, but other than saying it's just a bit off, I can't really say much.
"(i never cried because it's hard to hear
other's whispers when you are wailing)"
This. I just love it. So, so much. "wailing" throws me a bit for word choice, and I keep wanting it to be more like "over your own cries", but it's also a bit elegant, and anything my head keeps telling it wants to see simply isn't quite as deft as what you have.
Third line of the poem (I think it's supposed to be second stanza, but you don't have a space there), I just don't like the structure. Like, I know what you mean, and I kind of what it to read something like "couldwouldshouldhavedone", but that doesn't really fit in your poem, does it?
Second stanza, first line. Why not write out Times Square, 42nd Street? Visually, yes, it does take up more room, but syllable/rhythm-wise it's the same. It's one of the few lines you break up with a comma in the middle, so you could just write it all out, and break the line at the comma. In that same stanza, final line, "he creates" falls short of what I expected to see to end the stanza, especially after several read-throughs. I keep expecting to read something about his hands (since you need hands to drum, usually), and fingers and the sounds that come from the drum (what kind? milk carton? leather? old pilfered snare?)
Overall, I have really enjoyed reading this. I wasn't sure what to expect when I clicked on this, but I have been totally (and happily) surprised with what I found! Thanks for such a lovely read, and an even lovelier piece to review. If you have any questions, feel free to PM me!
Mesh
I really like this. It's a great summary of what it feels like to write!
I like the format, with all the parentheses and everything.
I love the descriptiveness and emotion of this piece. It's very unique. I find it interesting (in a good way) that you often refer to the metaphorical term "Bleeding secrets". It describes it perfectly.
Your conventions and layout were very well done as well. Though there was this one mistake in stanza #9:
(i screamed and jumped and spit
out crushed ant corpses and sobbed
in disgustbut i was 12 and i was
allowed to cry over little things then)
There's supposed t be a space between disgust and but.
Anyway, your flow was a bit choppy, but it added to the poem more than it took away.
So, overall, I'd give it a 9/10
great job!
I hope to hear more
w&w
good job