The Slam: Slammables
Newspaper
by Liz, Pennsylvania
I might have gotten ink in my eye.
The paper, the Lancaster
New Era, is soaked.
Rain transforms it
from a boxy and masculine
object into something more
delicate. Colossal gray petals,
or flimsy fabric of a slip. It clings,
but it sustains. Strong stuff,
newspaper. Sometimes it sounds
a lot like “noose paper.”
I bought it to shield
my face.
A headline declares,
“Rescue Try Ends
in Tragedy.” Underneath,
“Man missing in river jumped
in to save companion.”
My town sits on this
same Susquehanna.
Eyes closed, I glimpse the water
as it laps up all the smog
and dirt, litter and good friends.
Stealthily, it glitters up
to a mile-long bridge,
which arcs across
like God’s pale arm.
I’m not there now.
But I bought this paper
with drowned men’s stories,
and I drowned this paper --
melted their names into rivers
that run black down my head
and onto my hand,
which reaches to my eye
out of habit.
There are several things I love about this piece. First: I love this first line; it's so matter of fact and makes me think, "Hmm... what did she do to get ink in her eye?" Then I like how the dry newspaper is masculine and the wet paper is more delicate, which made me think feminine. I like this contrast because it's like the paper is both genders.
I like how you talk about the river and the headline for a stanza, as it gives more depth to the poem than what I normally get; I could easily see this as a story. As a mostly short story writer myself, stories are something I am more comfortable with and it made me really attracted to this poem.
I like how you talk about the river and then break out into "I'm not there now." My mind's eye went from someone sitting on a rock near a river to somone sitting on an uncomfortable chair. I'm not really sure how I got the chair but the quick scene change threw me off and made me concentrate a bit more. I like how you drowned the words in your head. This was easy for me to connect to because it's a sensation I'm sure plenty of people are aware of.
Okay, there, that's how much I liked this poem, that I was willing to list all the things I loved about it.
critiqued by YodaShmoda, the confines of final studying
Jun 7, 2010
Jun 7, 2010
Slammings