This is something I composed for my Poetry class. It’s the third poem I have submitted – the first was rubbish, the second I love but needs more work, and this one I’m quite proud of. It has not yet been workshopped by my professor and fellow classmates, so this is a first draft. Please do let me know if you have critiques or thoughts. I want it to be perfect. I wrote it as a gift for a very kind friend, and I want it to be right, if only because it is not my own. This is also the first rhyming/metered poem I’ve written for class – the others have been free-verse, which I don’t like nearly so much. But to do rhyme successfully and powerfully is difficult – it’s too easy to fall into a sing-song, childish rhythm with it. So I haven’t yet attempted it for my class assignments. This is the first try – it’s written in Stanza form, which basically means that as long as it has some sort of rhythm or some sort of rhyme, anything goes. I tried to use enjambment to get rid of the sing-song effect. Enjoy – and please do tell me what you think.
Midnight With You, In You
You talk of boxes, life divided hard
And fast; one hundred ways to split a soul.
The adjectives before your name remind
You of the ways you cannot quite console
Yourself. You stand alone, in shrinking space,
The category you have left to live
Inside is smaller than you could deserve –
Perhaps. It’s taking more than you can give
To keep from feeling how your box’s walls
Can press against the edges of your slight
And shaking self, can cut into your lungs
And leave you fire-filled, gutted, ashy white
With how you feel alone. There is no room
Within your tiny box for any more
Than just yourself; you are the only one
Who fits into the sterile space of your
Great qualifying list of what makes you –
Be you. You talk of how that makes you feel
Alone, sometimes. Alone, and sad, and yet
Not lonely. That you know cannot be real.
You talk of dreams that can’t come true, because
Of how your box fits snug around your breast.
You wonder, sometimes, if somehow it could
Be true that you, divided, still are blessed.