Teaching Myself to Miss You Differently

[bianca.a.palmisano]

Version 2:

somewhere we are backlit by balloon arches and plastic punch bowls,
my palm on the small of your back,
the satin forest of your dress swaying 
 
and somewhere you are winking at me 
in the gender studies section 
my Converse squeaking closer 
to slip a phone number between the pages of Judith Butler
 
and somewhere I am pushed hard against the slick wall of The Eagle
sinking to my knees, your hands in my hair
giving each other something nameless and electric
 
but today I am teaching myself to love
our unentwined pasts
dance parties and midnight movies and porch swings 
our lives contoured to distance
 
and today I am leaning on the pressure points
of my loneliness 
cooking for you in an empty kitchen
tasting you beneath the blankets of sleep
corseting myself into waiting
with the ache of taut bowstrings 
 
and today the weight of your absence
is a violet unfolding
your fingers rising from the soil to brush my cheek
my body rooting to you with long tendrils
petals reaching endlessly for the sun

Author note: Open to detailed crit, especially thoughts on the last stanza. This has been through a LOT of editing already though, so please be nice.
--
We only have this timeline, but somewhere 
we are backlit by balloon arches, plastic punch bowls
my palm on the small of your back,
the satin forest of your dress swaying 
 
and somewhere you are winking at me 
in the gender studies section 
converse squeaking closer 
to slip my number between the pages of Judith Butler for you
 
and somewhere you are pushing me hard 
against the slick wall of The Eagle
sinking to my knees, your hands in my hair
giving each other something nameless and electric
 
but today I am teaching myself to love our untwined pasts
dance parties and midnight movies and porch swings 
contoured to bifurcated cities
 
and today I am leaning on the pressure points
of my loneliness 
cooking for you in an empty kitchen
tasting you beneath the blankets of sleep
corseting myself into waiting
with the ache of taut bowstrings 
 
The weight of your absence
transcribes bruises across a body reaching 
scanning the horizon of queer bars, diner booths, book clubs
seeding cloudbursts and autumns heavy with longing
so that your story might envelope me in heady embrace 
those precious moments we collide

 

[Knot]

Hi Bianca,
I really like the title and I think the repeated 'somewheres' work well (similarly, the 'todays'.) Where it starts to fall, I think, is S4/L2 - the list is rather dry and unengaging (and the grammar gives one pause, where you really don't want to pause.) And the final verse, lacking both a 'today' or 'somewhere', seems to have wandered in from a different poem.


We only have this timeline, but somewhere ............. do you need 'we only ... timeline'? There's a slight ambiguity about who the 'we' refers to, and I think cutting it offers a better opening,
but somewhere we are backlit...


we are backlit by balloon arches, plastic punch bowls
my palm on the small of your back, ........... I think just tidying up the grammar here would help (a lot!)
and my palm is on the small of your back
the satin forest of your dress swaying

and somewhere you are winking at me ............ maybe 'wink at me'?
in the gender studies section
converse squeaking closer ................................ lack of a pronoun gives me pause, whose are the converse? (And should it be Converse?)
to slip my number between the pages of Judith Butler for you ............ don't think you need 'for you', it's strongly implied.

and somewhere you are pushing me hard
against the slick wall of The Eagle
sinking to my knees, your hands in my hair ........... I'm confused about how this line follows from the previous (maybe change 'sinking to' to 'on ...'?)
giving each other something nameless and electric ....... Similar confusion (as above) perhaps 'exchanging something nameless and electric' might be clearer (though it feels like something's missing.)

but today I am teaching myself to love our untwined pasts ........... think the line should break after 'love'.
dance parties and midnight movies and porch swings
contoured to bifurcated cities ................... I don't see how these two lines relate to 'untwined pasts', nor what they add to the idea.

and today I am leaning on the pressure points
of my loneliness .......... very nice.
cooking for you in an empty kitchen ............ bit bland, and doesn't the earlier 'loneliness' suggest that the kitchen is empty?
tasting you beneath the blankets of sleep ...... feels a bit confused. The tasting seems to relate to the cooking, but then it doesn't. (I'd maybe stick to the cooking metaphor, and do something new with the 'blankets of sleep' - nice phrase.)
corseting myself into waiting
with the ache of taut bowstrings .............. great idea, the 'corseting', but 'taut bowstrings' doesn't hit the right note, for me, (There's perhaps something about breathlessness and bones here?)

The weight of your absence ....................... I think you need to start with
and today the weight ...

transcribes bruises across a body reaching ........'transcribes' feels like you're trying too hard. Why not
aches like a bruise across a body ?

scanning the horizon of queer bars, diner booths, book clubs
seeding cloudbursts and autumns heavy with longing
so that your story might envelope me in heady embrace
those precious moments we collide .............. Sadly, I don't think any of the final four lines are worth keeping. It's all rather melodramatic and mawkish. Whatever you decide, I'd suggest reminding yourself of the (excellent) title before revisiting these lines/the ending. One last thought, perhaps the 'pressure points' verse might make a better end, and this one should come earlier in the piece?




Best, Knot


.

[RiverNotch]

the poem really starts by the second line. not sure what this first line is really doing, but it doesn't really matter. i like how concrete that which follows is, though. in fact...

We only have this timeline, but somewhere 
we are backlit by balloon arches, plastic punch bowls
my palm on the small of your back,
the satin forest of your dress swaying 

...i love how gay this whole thing is. this second stanza is the big giveaway, of course, but the more obscure (but not by any means subtler) gayness of the other stanzas feels really rewarding to me, if a touch....unfamiliar. i usually encounter these terms in the genre of pop song, not written poetry xD
 
and somewhere you are winking at me 
in the gender studies section 
converse squeaking closer 
to slip my number between the pages of Judith Butler for you

of course, i have no idea if "The Eagle" is an *actual* club, but still. gay.
 
and somewhere you are pushing me hard 
against the slick wall of The Eagle
sinking to my knees, your hands in my hair
giving each other something nameless and electric

niggling point, i don't like "untwined", as it feels like it should be "unentwined" instead xD
not so niggling, with "midnight movies" and "contoured" is where things get more reasonably obscure -- more tied to gay cultural references -- though again, not at all subtle xD
 
but today I am teaching myself to love our untwined pasts
dance parties and midnight movies and porch swings 
contoured to bifurcated cities

back to more technical notes, and these aren't so niggling, but the first two lines of this stanza feel as "useless" as the first line of the first stanza, only here i don't see a structural reason for them being so bland. there has to be something more concrete than "leaning on the pressure points of my loneliness", unless that's another bit of slang i just miss.
"cooking for you in an empty kitchen" reminds me of Joni Mitchell's "My Old Man", and maybe recalling that song, if you don't already recall it, would be helpful in making the sentiment in this stanza really, er, pop xD
"the blankets of sleep" is super redundant. "tasting you beneath the sheets" would be better, if a little commoner.
and then you're back to some delectable gayness with "corseting".

 
and today I am leaning on the pressure points
of my loneliness 
cooking for you in an empty kitchen
tasting you beneath the blankets of sleep
corseting myself into waiting
with the ache of taut bowstrings 

i guess the "weight of your absence" thing ties to "taut bowstrings", which itself ties to the more explicitly gay reference "corseting", so that's a fun little cascade of imagery i didn't initially catch.
there's something of a missed opportunity to me with "transcribes bruises", though, unless you really did have the AIDS crisis in mind for this piece and i myself just missed it. but exploiting this opportunity, i don't think, truly matters.
and then the last four lines try to really bring it all back together, though again, there's a sense that those particular lines are throwaways. the cascade of imagery from "horizon" to "cloudbursts" to "heavy longing" feels cheap, this time, though i don't know what alternatives to suggest. i mean, i bet you already knew how cheap they were before posting xD

The weight of your absence
transcribes bruises across a body reaching 
scanning the horizon of queer bars, diner booths, book clubs
seeding cloudbursts and autumns heavy with longing
so that your story might envelope me in heady embrace 
those precious moments we collide.

and just to be clear, i reiterate that i really like this piece. i also apologize for the horrendous formatting of this critique, as i chose to do it on my phone xD

[Wjames]

Author note: Open to detailed crit, especially thoughts on the last stanza. This has been through a LOT of editing already though, so please be nice.

--
We only have this timeline, but somewhere 
we are backlit by balloon arches, plastic punch bowls
my palm on the small of your back,  slightly awkward transition from line two to three imo. I might remove the comma in L2 and replace it with an 'and' and then put a comma after bowls. Just because as it currently is, you are backlit by my palm on the small of your back. I think a comma after punch bowls would serve to demarcate it from the backlit idea.
the satin forest of your dress swaying I don't know if you need the second 'of your' here.
 
and somewhere you are winking at me 
in the gender studies section 
converse squeaking closer 
to slip my number between the pages of Judith Butler for you 
 
and somewhere you are pushing me hard 
against the slick wall of The Eagle
sinking to my knees, your hands in my hair
giving each other something nameless and electric I really like these two stanzas. 'giving each other' may be a bit weak imo but it's a nitpick - maybe 'revealing' or 'grasping'?
 
but today I am teaching myself to love our untwined pasts
dance parties and midnight movies and porch swings 
contoured to bifurcated cities
 
and today I am leaning on the pressure points
of my loneliness 
cooking for you in an empty kitchen
tasting you beneath the blankets of sleep
corseting myself into waiting
with the ache of taut bowstrings I think this is the strongest part of the poem, really good.
 
The weight of your absence
transcribes bruises across a body reaching 
scanning the horizon of queer bars, diner booths, book clubs I don't see why you need both 'reaching' and 'scanning'.
seeding cloudbursts and autumns heavy with longing
so that your story might envelope me in heady embrace 
those precious moments we collide  I think it would be stronger without 'in heady embrace those precious moments we collide' - very wordy imo. I think 'so that your story might in envelope me' would be a strong finish.
 

Just some thoughts after a few reads, hopefully it's useful to you. I enjoyed it.

[busker]

Author note: Open to detailed crit, especially thoughts on the last stanza. This has been through a LOT of editing already though, so please be nice.

--
We only have this timeline, but somewhere 
we are backlit by balloon arches, plastic punch bowls
my palm on the small of your back,
the satin forest of your dress swaying 
 
and somewhere you are winking at me 
in the gender studies section 
converse squeaking closer 
to slip my number between the pages of Judith Butler for you
 
and somewhere you are pushing me hard 
against the slick wall of The Eagle
sinking to my knees, your hands in my hair
giving each other something nameless and electric
 
but today I am teaching myself to love our untwined pasts
dance parties and midnight movies and porch swings 
contoured to bifurcated cities
 
and today I am leaning on the pressure points
of my loneliness 
cooking for you in an empty kitchen
tasting you beneath the blankets of sleep
corseting myself into waiting
with the ache of taut bowstrings 
 
The weight of your absence
transcribes bruises across a body reaching 
scanning the horizon of queer bars, diner booths, book clubs
seeding cloudbursts and autumns heavy with longing
so that your story might envelope me in heady embrace 
those precious moments we collide 
 

It's a mixed poem for me. 
The lines in green are strong. The ones in orange are cliched expressions.
I think you'd get something more powerful if you trimmed the poem by 50%

[JamesG]

Author note: Open to detailed crit, especially thoughts on the last stanza. This has been through a LOT of editing already though, so please be nice.

--
We only have this timeline, but somewhere 
we are backlit by balloon arches, plastic punch bowls
my palm on the small of your back,
the satin forest of your dress swaying 

I think it might be work better if you lost this first verse altogether and started the poem on the "and", as if the reader were entering a conversation on the middle.
 
and somewhere you are winking at me 
in the gender studies section 
converse squeaking closer 
to slip my number between the pages of Judith Butler for you I don't think this line needs to be so specific? Seems a bit clunky.
 
and somewhere you are pushing me hard 
against the slick wall of The Eagle
sinking to my knees, your hands in my hair
giving each other something nameless and electric
 I would lose this line break as it is unnecessary
but today I am teaching myself to love our untwined pasts
dance parties and midnight movies and porch swings 
contoured to bifurcated cities
 
and today I am leaning on the pressure points The repetion on "but today" and "and today" doesn't seem to work here
of my loneliness 
cooking for you in an empty kitchen
tasting you beneath the blankets of sleep
corseting myself into waiting
with the ache of taut bowstrings 
 
The weight of your absence
transcribes bruises across a body reaching "Reaching scanning" doesn't seem to work here for me 
scanning the horizon of queer bars, diner booths, book clubs
seeding cloudbursts and autumns heavy with longing
so that your story might envelope me in heady embrace 
those precious moments we collide This should describe something in the past tense, not the present,no?
 

Overall it is a good poem, and you are welcome to ignore my opinion