This is a poem with some truth to it, a truth that's very familiar and scary, too. But as a reader of poetry and a teacher of poetry, I would say that this is not a poem but rather prose with a weak gesture toward stanzaic form. And that's perfectly fine, of course. But its diction, imagery, and syntax is purely prose.
Thanks for your comment, and I get your point. Her book, What the Living Do, is generally in this style. It's hard to define what makes a poem. For me, the shfts in the emotion work to make it a poem.
This is a poem with some truth to it, a truth that's very familiar and scary, too. But as a reader of poetry and a teacher of poetry, I would say that this is not a poem but rather prose with a weak gesture toward stanzaic form. And that's perfectly fine, of course. But its diction, imagery, and syntax is purely prose.
Thanks for your comment, and I get your point. Her book, What the Living Do, is generally in this style. It's hard to define what makes a poem. For me, the shfts in the emotion work to make it a poem.
Relieved?
It's complex.
Thanks for "shifts in emotion."
I can use that.