After School Special

This poem is about my mom and the abusive relationship that we shared.

Clutching my school bag, I walk blindly into a room without eyesight

The lights never come on and I am so sick of it

She likes the smell of fear, it makes her strong

Today I tried to mask it with Eau de Toilette

I don't think it worked

 

I can see a pattern of a man with an umbrella today

Yesterday it was just a face

It blurs and I lose myself in the wall again

He returns as my eyes readjust

If I focus hard enough, he is the only one in the room

 

Oil burning, cigarette smoke, urine: one smell

Red blinds my sight and the blood starts pumping faster

I can take her out...she is such a f*****g b***h

Then I remember who I am and go back to the man with the umbrella

I can see him laughing in still life as rain tumbles

 

I could die right now and no one would notice.

I could disappear with the man and the umbrella

And no one would be any the wiser

I swear God, just let me stop breathing

It will be easy, just flip the little switch up there off

 

Tires on gravel bring me back

Relief tumbles through my belly...reprieve

Dad's home

Goodbye man with the umbrella, see you tomorrow

In another after school special

Author's Note

I want any and all feedback. I have had none for this writing.

Reviews

[Raef C. Boylan]

You really haven't had any feedback on this. 'tis wrong, because this is a great piece.
The first time I read this, I hadn't seen your description, so I just let it take me, then the second read I looked at the description so that it was put into context for me.

I really related to finding patterns...on walls, carpets and stuff like that -
"Yesterday it was just a face
It blurs and I lose myself in the wall again
He returns as my eyes readjust
If I focus hard enough, he is the only one in the room".

The short sentences and statements you've used for this poem work well to create an atmospheric pace and tone...like the slow beat of war drums...or the blood thumping in your ears as someone who wants to hurt you and has done it before approaches; each line has impact.

To have to go home from school every day into the company of someone who acts like they hate you, who only responds with violence or meaness towards you...[I dig it, by the way] - you've really captured that; it's not dramatised here, it's the mediocre ritual of living. We experienced the relief of that final stanza alongside you.

This poem is personal, which may be why some people have backed away from critiquing it. However, it isn't a detailed memoir; it's a well-crafted piece of writing. You know what each stanza hints at, but we don't, not exactly - and maybe you didn't at the time, maybe it was unexpected or too varied to predict...the narrator's fear of what their mother will do, the specifics of which are unknown to us, make it all the more horrifying. Like not knowing what's lurking in the dark.

Great write.
Thanks for reviewing me earlier.

[Bennett Logan]

I read this before I went to work earlier this evening, and the imagery/sensory language that you used in lines 6, 11, and 12 really stuck with me. You certainly have a knack for language and syntax and it's definately reflected in this poem. It painted a pretty dark, oily, and slightly yellowed picture in my imagination. Normally, I have a handfull of suggestions to offer to folks on here, but this poem, my friend, appears to be completed. Definately keep up the good work!