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@ 27.225 MHz: WallStones; A Guess That The More They Stay The Same
My boyfriend crossed Space,
further than any
other. Then, programmed
(just before the launch),
his ship ejected
and abandoned him
there---the cold, starless
void, empty between
the long arms of the
galactic spiral
(not even refuse
is cast forth in those
places, but he was)
because he loved a
me: we were coupled
boyfriends; he?---a true
human; and I?---a
replicated clone,
routinely produced.
Not one of us will
forget; not one of
us will stop crying.
Starward
I'm loving the lustrous and
I'm loving the lustrous and delicate cadence that keeps this crushingly sad poem pouring beautifully from line to slender line like a serpent.
The simplicity really works here, allowing the cruel circumstance of being cast away because of who one loves to crash through, unsparing, crystalline and gripping. You also managed to create an endearing and strong character using very little disclosure, and that's quite a victory!
The imagery, meaningful and unfettered by any unnecessary words, makes a statement in itself and propells the story into some emotionally charged territory.
Elegant power. Superb!
Thank you. I really
Thank you. I really appreciate your comment and validation, because this poem made me as nervous as a cockroach in a pesticide factory. It came to me in a flurry, and was supposed to be a Tanka, and yet demanded more lines than a Tanka affords, while keeping those lines to five syllables each. So I really felt disoriented in writing it. Your kind words and response to the poem have, as always, calmed my nervousness. Thank you so very much.
Starward