I'm Not Comforting You, Either


I’m Not Comforting You, Either
By Meghan Tennison
we’re sorry, but
your favourite hiding place has been bombed
just like the streets
in the morning
you have to live
all over again
as if you’re the
rusty swing of the set -yes
you
are
here’s a toothpick
for your heart and
some clothes pins
for your neck

0 thoughts on “I'm Not Comforting You, Either

  1. I immediately noticed that one long line–
    “your favourite hiding place has been bombed”
    which draws attention to itself because of its importance to this short-n-sweet poem. Typically, such long lines (7words) protruding in the midst of 1-4 word lines might be considered unpleasing to the eye or aesthetically ‘cock-eyed’–but I think that this poem (and other poems for that matter) need not necessarilly pay homage to ‘looking good’ when inspiring critical deep thought may be the poet’s primary concern–an ends to a means? …’just like the streets/ in the morning/ you have to live/ all over again/ as if you’re the/ rusty swing of the set-yes/ you/ are…’ –is that a simile followed directly with a metaphor? It’s like Wu-Chu Kung-Fu infighting with apt precise words bamming with the force of a Drunken-Master punch–and you are a hard bamboo rod!…
    Thanks Meghan.

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