Young Writers Society

the hand-made ropes of field work
(to show one the ropes)
to lose one's hand in the field, snuck off

by a hiding blade,
or the punch
bowl i dropped on my five year old

ankle, foot split, and how i howled
after the glittering scrounge of crystal on kitchen
you step from

as though it was the hunt of a tide
on a beach walk
your cuffs rolled up

for a step that would leave no trail
into a living room
that your mother might scrub from wood

and wool weft rug—
where you clutch it, weight to keep
back trace

over the writing, bathing places
how stains are critical
to hauntings, how seeing the blood

at your ankle or hand, unstemmed,
was what meant hurt—
the cue of seeing birds stirred from gorse

that means an ache of egg
somewhere in the brush-

ing away of tears,
and the home wrung for rubbing spirits,
a cloth to dab

or mop what was tracked
from room to room
like a joy to be back

Nice to see some poetry from you! What you've written is a tender and engaging vignette. I enjoyed it very much. It had its moments where you seemed to lose control of it, though. Despite how intimidating your poetry can be, I'll try to expand on this in the comments below.

the hand-made ropes of field work
(to show one the ropes)
to lose one's hand in the field, snuck off

I don't see why "ropes" needs to be italicized, if anything does. Less is more here. This is a nice introduction though. The word choice is interesting. "Snuck off / by a hiding blade," nicely evokes a boyishness, sneaking and hiding, but is a little hard (for me, a reader) to naturally connect.

ankle, foot split, and how i howled
after the glittering scrounge of crystal on kitchen
you step from

as though it was the hunt of a tide
on a beach walk
your cuffs rolled up

for a step that would leave no trail
into a living room
that your mother might scrub from wood

and wool weft rug—
where you clutch it, weight to keep
back trace

There's practically three stanzas here without a pause. I appreciate the way you stack and fold these lines around each other but it could be tighter, smoother, and paced out more effectively. "Glittering" is an extraneous adjective. I love the image of it being a tide that this person's feet are in, and so on. It all works well. My issue is in the choice of the word "hunt." It is distracting and tonally off-key for me.

over the writing, bathing places (pause?)
how stains are critical
to hauntings, how seeing the blood

at your ankle or hand, unstemmed,
was what meant hurt—
the cue of seeing birds stirred from gorse

that means an ache of egg
somewhere in the brush-

(Why did you step out of form? A little dramatic, for better or worse). I like the psychology and imagery in these stanzas. The word choice is what really gives the imagery its depth, movement, and purity. The metaphor of birds is beautiful, if perhaps too harshly transitioned. The sharp cut kind of works at the same time, though. (I know, I'm not helpful >.<).

ing away of tears,
and the home wrung for rubbing spirits,
a cloth to dab

or mop what was tracked
from room to room
like a joy to be back

What a brilliant finish! I especially enjoyed the bolded line.

Overall what the me off the most was the enjambment and pacing. The positives far outweighed the negatives, however. I could say more but I ought to keep from rambling.

Ky,

What a joy it is to see your poetry here. I have to say I’ve taken to this poem far more than I can remember in a long time (maybe ever). You’re doing wonderful with line breaks (excepting one which hurts me) and you’ve got such an excellent turn of phrase as always and it makes me so happy to read.

The break which I dislike so is the “brush-/ing” which is unnatural and works against what you’re doing, for me anyway. Your other line breaks are awkward but work very much in your favour, they make new lines of old lines as it were and that is brilliant. Particularly brilliant when considering the injury portion.

I don’t mind the italics of “the ropes” here because I understand you’re distancing it from the other use, this is slang, a colloquial understanding of the new man learning new trade. I wouldn’t mind if you lost it either, the italics, because I think most people understand exactly what you’re saying. You know as well as I do that we don’t have to coddle our readers, particularly not those who are used to your work, which is of a high standard.

I’d love you to consider caps/basic punctuation which doesn’t get in the way of the concept. While it might be working as a note on injury, being broken, wrong, learning, I don’t think it really serves that purpose. There’s no point pushing an agenda (I know you dislike the restrictions of proper punctuation and such, or I remember it being so) to the detriment of your poem. It only comes as detriment here because it’s a distraction, one you don’t need at all.

It’s a beautiful poem though and I really like it very much. What an excellent poem for me to come to see from you in such a long time.

You need anything, hit me up.
-Guin.