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Thread: Dry-Fire

  1. #1
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    Dry-Fire

    She sits, emotionally bland,
    Speaking mechanically;
    Her right jaw, slightly misaligned,
    From calcifications of former fractures;
    And he is left-handed.
    Lime-green circles about her
    Distant, blue eyes indicate
    That she has pleased him
    This past week.
    She believes that she
    Is Improving, is better;
    As the distance between
    The necessary corrections
    Is elongating, and she doesn’t
    Nap as often.
    He seems to love her more;
    And frequently resorts
    To audible amendments,
    Or is too fatigued, himself,
    To properly intervene
    In her enlightenment.

    She inhales, fidgets, re-adjusts,
    To breathe without pain;
    Calmly expressing accolades for
    The strength, perseverance,
    Of her son who doesn’t fail;
    But weeps, in anonymity,
    For her daughter who must
    Have inherited her propensity
    Toward weakness, malfunction.
    Perhaps, over time,
    He will see fit to guide
    Their daughter with
    Identical acts of love;
    And she will be well.

    She stares out the window,
    Toward the windswept willow;
    Catatonic, citing that
    Past years, learning years,
    Were resonating like the
    Dry-fire echo of the
    Empty Chamber in a game
    Of Russian-Roulette.
    The sound, repeated and
    Sustained in dull memory;
    The clicks that fed
    The ugly tomorrows;
    But her eyes sparkle as
    She admits to a yearning,
    For the strike of the pin
    To fresh primer;
    And she may only regret
    That she will not hear
    The Sound
    Heralding her freedom.





    Copyright 2010, Fegger (Thorn of the Rose)

  2. #2
    Something's gotta give PrinceMyshkin's Avatar
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    A brilliant, devastating (self?) portrait.

  3. #3
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    Prince--thank you for the comment.

    Here, I am only an empathetic, concerned witness.

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    As powerful an image of domestic abuse as one is likely to come across. Amazing on so many levels.

    H

  5. #5
    Registered User Delta40's Avatar
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    This poem knocked my socks off! Within the first lines one knew the journey they were being taken on....It's implications are terrifying.

    Well done
    Distant, blue eyes indicate
    That she has pleased him
    This past week.
    She believes that she

    You could cut out the 'thats' and retain its powerful edge
    Before sunlight can shine through a window, the blinds must be raised - American Proverb

  6. #6
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    Delta---This poem represents the only (first) draft. I had entertained the thought of editing 'that', 'Were' (resonating), 'The' (clicks), etc.--but I didn't want to touch them because I wanted the text to mirror the mechanical/catatonic state of the character---wanted the precise sense of what I was feeling to be transposed onto the reader. I have also thought of building a bit of a prose piece around this narrative as it seems to have a sustained, tense vision for me. We'll see on that venture. Thank you.
    If I were lost, I wouldn’t deny it. Quite frankly, I’d embrace the fear in a dramatic and tortuous event until the child spoke in agony and dismay; and then, of course, I’d reverently thank God for the inspiration entrusted to me.--Fegger

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