Smoke tendrils curl past half-closed eyes;
A death-stick gripped in shaking hands
Is sucked like it will give her life
(it might)
Blurred by the orange light,
White legs drawn up to feel her heart
(keep beating, let me know i'm living)
Curled-up glow-worm on the sill
Distant siren, whispering shrill.
Upon her hip, a flash of red
Blood there from somewhere, who knows where
(i should remember, i should care)
No sombre words, no bitter tears
Desert-ducts and deafened ears.














Critiques
Verb choices of individual sound yet similar thought-provocation play well off each other -drawn up/curled-up-
Word choice continues to impress with the beat consideration, the impact it has on the speed of the reader while reading, slowing the thought down, forcing a closer and deeper consideration -Distant siren, whispering shrill- 2-2-3-2 has a dramatic impact, subtly.
There is a consideration further through the poem, keeping the whole time a position of speaker to listener. Good poetic distance, a certain "big speech" we get taught how to read, the things inherently known to be important, though not known how or why. Powerful combinations. More good work, obviously a poetic soul.
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