Saturday, December 13, 2008

Munitionette

She,

glittering like streetlamps, yellow

of  her skin, knocking them back

hand on her chin

Bold,

like glaring sunlight, beating

of her heart, so much life

within her

 

She,

of the world behind

the glass, so rippled and he ensnared

by the writhing Dead

Cold,

are the arms that tenderly try

to snuff out the joy

within her

 

5 comments:

ghostgum said...

I really like your powerful use of enjambement in the poem. The short lines and images gives it a pared-back stark feeling of being exposed in yellow darkness or bright sunlight.

Julia Tobin said...

I agree with the idea of the short lines. They give a surreal feeling. The poetic voice is quite numb in tone because of this which reminds me of the dull repetitive work that the women had to do. I love it :)

c. said...

Thank you :)

ana.itaG said...

has an eerie pace.. love it :)

Mai said...

The use of third person also adds to the isolation presented in this poem. Good job !