salt oozing
& i can't spell laughter
without slaughter
i can't spell my name
without drawing the shadow
behind it; here
lays a saint i scrubbed off
but did not leave all the way
here, my chest
fresh & bloodied
here, my hands
my hands my hands
(puncture wounds included)
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140,240 Literary Works • 673,052 Reviews
Hai :3
This is so complex!! Immediately, it pulled me in. Like, salt is so symbolic ~~ It’s about preservation, but also wounds, stinging, and pain. It’s almost like the narrator is preserving their pain or their trauma here, like something that can’t be fully healed, just stinging and sitting there, constantly seeping out. You’ve set up such a tangible image of hurt, of something that feels constant and slow, almost like decay. That is so vivid and it's like I can feel it!! It really comes off of the page for me!!
The wordplay is so clever too!! You’re showing us how closely happiness and pain are connected. The narrator literally cannot experience joy or laughter without the underlying violence of “slaughter,” as if their happiness is always marred by something darker. It’s like joy has become inseparable from pain. This line also brings such a contrast between lightness (laughter) and darkness (slaughter), reminding me of how life is often this messy mix of the two. That's such a relatable thought!!
I'm so in love with this image !!!
This feels so intimate and personal!! It’s like the narrator’s identity is bound to this shadow, this lingering darkness that follows them. It’s almost as if the narrator feels haunted by something ~~ Like, a past mistake, guilt, trauma, or even just the feeling of being incomplete. The use of “drawing the shadow” makes it active too, like they are aware of this darkness and even participate in it, intentionally or not. That is a powerful metaphor!! No matter what they do, the shadow is always there.
^^^ I do agree with the other reviewers!! This is a very solid poem, especially considering how short it is, but I want something more. The imagery doesn't have time to settle!! Like, why the saint in particular? Why is your chest bloody, but nothing else bodily is mentioned (besides hands)? It's a very beautiful and masterful metaphor, but it falls flat considering everything else. There’s something sacrificial about the poem; maybe lean into that. That would be a cool angle!!
The repetition here is so effective!! It’s like the narrator is fixated on their hands, maybe because of what they’ve done or what they feel they can’t undo. There’s a deep sense of guilt or responsibility here ~~ Hands are what we use to act, to create, and to destroy. It's like they’re trying to distance themselves from their own actions, but can’t quite manage to do so. It’s haunting!! I love when poems break off into something more introspective and dissociated like how this did!!
This poem is so powerful!! There’s this constant battle between identity, pain, and trying to let go of something but failing to. The religious imagery, the body, the shadows all come together to create this incredibly vivid picture!! It’s full of tension and complexity, and I’m just in awe of how well you’ve woven it all together!! It feels like a deeply personal exploration, and you’ve done an incredible job capturing that in your language and imagery. Amazing work with this!! ^_^
- Payton
Hello Hello I hope you dont mind me popping in with a quick review. I apologize that this might be a short one. However, I apologize that this is going to be a short one. With that being said I still hope my thoughts can brighten your day nonetheless. Let's get into it, shall we?
Overall I enjoyed this poem it used a bunch of interesting imgery and wordplay to a great effect. There are a lot of fun ideas in this poem despite it being a very short poem. I do want to give a second apology as it is a touch harder to review poetry this short.
I feel the religious imgery mixed with sheer desperation is what speaks to me the most. The idea of your past and trauma paired with the glamorized idea of sainthood. It gives you a great base to fully connect the themes in a brutal throughline. Since a lot of those stories tend to be pretty gruesome at times but it's all dipped in a sense of glamour.
The whole poem is oozeing with emotion. For how short this is you strike the reader with this raw almost manic grief. The type you hold when you look at the past knowing what could have gone differently. At the same time, there are some parts that you wouldn't change since life isn't necessarily all bad or all good. I do think this piece shows that balance well in just the second line alone.
Now that we have gone into the highlights I want to move on to feedback. Before that, I want to say that I am not a professional nor do you have to use anything I say. You are the poet after all!
The only thing I have to say in terms of feedback has been said already. The imagery could use a bit of build-up. You hit the reader with a huge amount of emotion that ends up feeling sudden. Furthermore, I feel some of the imagery is left hanging because of this lack of build-up. The salt line at the start comes to my mind to me it feels a bit of place.
Personally, I would tie it into the saintly imgery, maybe looking into the process to become a saint. Is there a martyrdom or saint known for crying? Creating that kind of comparison from the start would make it feel more thematically coherent.
Other than that I thoroughly enjoyed this piece. I hope you can forgive me for this very brief review it's been a very long day. However, I am excited to read more of your work going forward.
All in all, I hope you have a great day or night. Keep writing and drink water!
hi zenaida!
alright so i had the urge to review this. here i am!
the first thing that hit me was the wordplay between "laughter" and "slaughter" here; that’s such a killer line (pun intended). it feels almost sinister, but it's also so personal at the same time. you're pointing out this inescapable link between joy and pain, and it immediately makes me think of how closely intertwined they are in life. you can't have one without the other! that's actually really all-encompassing.
your name, something so essential and personal and unique to you, can’t be separated from whatever burdens or shadows are attached to it. this poem has so many ghosts in it. maybe unresolved trauma, guilt, or memories. it's succinct enough that i can't tell, but i don't mind not knowing; i think that adds to the atmosphere and the haunting nature of the poem. you're not passively experiencing it.
drawing, though, is a very interesting verb choice. what does "drawing the shadow" mean? i see like big bubble letters in my head, but that doesn't make sense. hmm. it's like actively creating the shadow, which feels intentional. but still, i'm confused what it means in a literal sense. i like the metaphor though, it's poetic!
OUCH okay go ahead and ruin me
there's something so raw about that. it makes me think of trying to erase parts of yourself, like shedding layers. i feel like it's about wanting to leave something behind, but it clings to you. so real. i feel that heavily, both good and bad. i especially feel drawn to the religious symbol here; saints are revered, looked up to in times of need. that says a lot about the narrative. i don't see that perspective often.
what an ending. it’s got such a frantic, almost obsessive energy; the weight of those hands is overwhelming, and i feel it as the reader. and the puncture wounds?! i feel like that's supposed to represent stigmata, but idk for sure. it’s a powerful metaphor for sacrifice or self-destruction though, especially paired with the idea of a bloodied chest. there's something so intense and spiritual about that, but not in a peaceful way. more like a tortured reckoning with yourself. that's gorgeous.
for critiques, i have to mention pacing. your poem is short and sharp, but i wonder if there’s room to build the emotions. you hit us with “my hands my hands my hands" but like. what do the hands have to do with anything? i'd prefer to see more imagery of the saint or the shadow before diving into the blood and puncture wounds. i love anatomical imagery, but you have to ease into it; it's not something that sits well with everyone. it's harsh. it's not easy to stomach. it takes time.
this was devastating though! for sure. the remnants of something sacred and pure will never be erased. that's beautiful and brutal. i hope this helps.
best,
dissonance