Peer Review #1 Week 5

Love Story

Someone is prying my pelvis bone open
from the front
with a crow bar.
Punched from the inside, I breathe big
until the pressure releases.
I push my thumb into my ankle and watch
my thumbprint
slowly decompress
like a hand released from memory foam.
I carry three gallons of extra blood and water around
like Lipton tea.
When I walk my hips pop; I wish I could pop my legs off
and reattach them
like I used to do to my Barbie dolls.
My chest is a road map of blue veins that drive
into darkened areolas.
My head gets faint, and I can feel the pounding of my heart
against my eardrum.
Ritualistic sleeping: one pillow pressed up
against my back,
one
between my knees.
One
for my head,
one
for my arm.
Settle in, breathe. Shift, breathe.
Now I have to pee.
Get up, use the bathroom, lay back down.
Switch sides.
Rearrange pillows.
Sigh.
It feels as if my sides are going to rip
like the college-ruled paper torn
from my notebook.
My tongue, swollen and crinkled
like accordian bag bellows.
Sharp pain
Sweat patches
Metal mouth
Dry heaves
No whiskey
endless tea.
All for the love
of baby-to-be.


April, I truly enjoyed this poem. you used different kinds of lines in order to make your point. Sometimes you would just use one word, while other times you would use many words. The way you wrote, "I feel as if my sides are going to rip/like the college-ruled paper torn/from my notebook." I thought this really brought the image to life while still using a simile that we wouldn't normally think to use. Also, the part about the Barbie dolls. This brought a fresh new kind of meaning to what you wish to do to your legs in order to not have your hips pop. You always can connect things we wouldn't normally think to connect. Though, the crow bar part made me cringe. OUCH. Great job!