I.
Sinners love Grace.
She's a kiss on the lips
to wash away the taste
of a father's rage.
She slips like rain
through cupped hands,
and when she comes home
she hits with an open fist
and turns tears
into jewelry.
II.
A father and daughter,
surprised by laughter,
skipped stones across the ice.
He smiled like a man
and now she trades
a kiss for some kicks.
Now she talks in tongues
and whispers in latin,
spoken word for the fathers
and the Romans.
Bent over the table,
she tries to intubate
some innocence,
but she's not a girl.
She's not a girl,
even while each skirt unfurls
and pulls her down.
The curtain falls on each ankle,
and she kisses like she loves,
to the flick of a heartbeat,
to the tick of a clock
on the mantlepiece.
But tell her he sold her soul,
and she sputters
and drowns in wax.
III.
Kinship is a word that breaks
at the consonants.
It punches holes in the ice
and pushes her head under
until her lips are frozen
And her hands are warm.
She breathes.
She draws water like summer air,
gasps of grass and pollen,
and fireflies that glow in her blood.
She is stunning with water in her hair
and steam on her fingertips.
The welcome mat is soaked.
"Did you get caught in the rain?"
"I think so, yes."
Shadypie.
Sinners love grace not because she’s a kiss on the lips to wash away the taste, but because she’s a good friend and listens when you have problems. God.
Before I even start this, can I take a moment and just admire this line:
I mean really. I’m pretty sure I have fallen in deep, steamy love with you over this line. So Grace had better watch out.
To be honest, the first thought I had after re-reading this was that you’d given a very good premise for the evolution of the Sex Escape. Everything you’ve written here comes across very cyclically, and it excites me. There are times when the image changed for me completely…some sort of Haunting In Connecticut possession when she spoke in tongues and latin and to the Romans. And again when she sputtered and drowned in wax. I quite like it, though.
Right. This review is all over the place. Focusing.
Part I is probably my favorite of all three, despite its lack of momentum compared to the rest. It’s very fluid, very much like the rain and tears motif, which you’ve distributed nicely through the remainder of the poem as well in the forms of ice, wax, steam, and finally rain again. And the remainder, with the exception of the shaking, sputtering tongues falls into the first motif—Grace’s kiss.
So, Shady. The duality of Grace is delicately here. It made me happy when you’d visit the image of fathers under the precinct of Grace, and it just all made me really chill.
My criticism, though, comes in the form of Part II’s flow and rhythm. It feels off to me with the amount/lack of substance on each line, particularly the first of each stanza—save the last. They feel very abrupt and unwelcoming. Experiment for me, maybe? Definitely to yourself, not necessarily in public.
It makes me sad when that’s the only review-class criticism I have for you. I think I’m really hung up on Kinship and the last stanza. God, you beautiful man.
If you want to scrutinize together, we can pad it up. ♥
Ty