Underneath
Underneath my shirt is my skin,
And the two red lines my cat engraved on my hand
And the bruise that blossomed from my abrupt encounter with a protruding wall,
And the inky black smudge that my pen left behind,
And the long slender scar that curls around my right arm,
A fading reminder of multiple bicycle collisions into the mailbox,
Which now slumps, permanently, to one side
Marking the entrance of the house where we
No longer live.
My battered skin conceals my heart and
By Sara Martin
The language of this poem is beautiful. You blend the concrete and metaphorical well. I love the descriptions of the bruises, followed by "marking the entrance of the house where we no longer live.
ReplyDeleteGreat work here!
I really like how you started out describing all the physical injuries and scars and then switched to the memories that went with them, and how they have a deeper meaning. Like Ms. Herlihy said the language is great! Nice Job!
ReplyDeleteI love how you took this prompt literally and talked about the literal surface of your skin. I really like how you talk about how many scars you have then say that your memories are unblemished. That's such a lovely line!
ReplyDeleteI like that you managed to choose markings and memories that were relatable, but still personally significant. Beautiful poem.
ReplyDelete