Haven't read your work in a bit, and I've missed it! This felt a bit different, and I love how you say it's simple, but I see the complexities here.... even with the first blunt image of the wrist, I had no idea what to expect at first. I keep going back to the "embarrassed by what poetry had become". I take it as either forcing the stanzas, and being uninspired and unhappy with yourself, and finally being moved. Finally, it's effortless, instead of maybe an exercise or a struggle with yourself and emotions. There's a purpose to it now, a fire, and in that revelation of "I love you", poetry becomes more than merely words. Beautiful, Ben!
Thank you, MA. You have it dead on: sometimes, poetry can be just an exercise in self gratification - writing for the sake of producing the perfect rhyme and getting the correct syllable count. It can become overproduced, and lose its meaning completely. Or lose its poetry, if that makes sense.
Hi Ben, I immediately had to favour this poem, the "precision" of poetry can take the life out of it sometimes, a break in connotation or flow can be seen as defective in someway, poetry, like life sometimes needs to break rules, it needs "imperfection" to contrast the "perfect" an thus becomes more human and real. I loved this poem so much. . .
My only criticism is you put a comma where there shouldn't be one. . . ( only joking :))