the rabbit stiff, nose in, bits of litter stuck to its fur,
It's interesting how the author could’ve v'e chosen to depict the rabbit as fearful ll or terrified yet the literal description of the rabbit is so stiff, so lifeless, like she was already seeing it post-mortem. The author doesn't seem to want you to pity the rabbit but just acknowledge the simple fact of its death instead.
saying we couldn't look, but looking, weren't we held there, weren't we imagining—what were we imagining?
Pretending to be shocked and horrified but really more curious about the snake imagining how it would be to be either of them, your fear and anxiety of death coupled with a strong morbid curiosity of how it must feel. A duality in not wanting to think something but thinking of it anyway because your brain is naturally curious.
How slow the body is to realize. You are never coming back.
Just like her with her body that could not look away from the sight of the rabbit being swallowed up the rabbit itself could not move either as they are slowly sucked away her innocence around the brutality of death and the rabbits life both sucked away by the snake.
I remember the glass case
I might be reading too far int this but it's Interesting how right after talking about how they couldn't tell where the snake ended and the body began there is a format in the line which is the end of one page but continues on to become the beginning of the next page blurring the line between beginning and end.
Resting on the page, the word is beautiful. It touches you as if you had a friend
Really beautiful metaphor for finding your free time and escaping the monotony of life.
Do you remember?
Interesting use of words almost like there brain had simply forgotten the meaning of fun like it had only been used long long ago.
of love, and love is no less practical than a coffee grinder
Even with their free time they still find the need for practicality what is the way to squeeze the most enjoyment out of their short lifespan.
but today you get a telegram from the heart in exile, proclaiming that the kingdom still exists, the king and queen alive, still speaking to their children,
We often put hardwork and painstaking effort on a pedestal, which causes us to become shortsighted and lose fact that we are allowed breaks. We aren't machines but humans, alive our mind filled with our many varied thoughts; our mind is a sanctuary one that must be given time to rest so it can continue to fight later on.
We Strike straight.
Lot of repetition of the word we to show not only that it's not just one person but an entire little gang of people but also helps form a (list?) poem.
correction: golden shovel poem
Seven at the Golden Shovel.
I was very curious about why it said golden shovel at the top so after looking it up it's the type of poem it's when the end of the last line in a stanza directly connects to the start of the next line in the stanza, In this case we have we being used to connect them up. It feels very similar to a list poem and as someone else has said a couplet poem. But it seems to have a few distinctions like how couplet poems aren't directly connected like golden shovel is.
Jazz June. We Die soon.
The unfortunate truth like others have said is that these kids who escaped school who think they're cool drinking jin and escaping from reality but they end up dying sooner than the rest.
a room of my own, a single bed, time to think and pray, no fighting
She hates the constant anger and fights that are around her, again she wants to just escape it all.
And the solitude of celibacy sounded pretty good, better than worrying about French kissing like my sister, better than pining for men, like mom, whose men left anyway.
It seems like the person who's thoughts we are reading seems to want escape from their hectic life one of the pressures found in any kids life.
People, I'd begin, today we're talking about... whatever I want to
Maybe she's not listened to that well. She's a child who wants the ability to talk about whatever she wanted to. To escape from the conversations she finds dreary in her everyday life.
I'd have a good job
Interesting how she purposely said a good job sounds a lot like she lives around many bad jobs and expects herself to maybe go into one. She believes that as a nun she'd have to not worry about being stuck with a bad job.
I'd take the smell of polished wood and incense over burnt grilled cheese and sour milk.
She wants to escape her poor living conditions desperately.
burglar, thief arsonist arsonist arsonist.
In my opinion think the order found in this poem can be commonly seen through two ways, either it's the reader viewing a relationship starting from the surface level observations and then becoming more and more personal (manipulation, hurt feelings, possible violence). Or it can be read as the evolution and eventual breakup of a relationship over time from the start of a healthy relationship all the way to the end where it was all broken down.
extortionist, thief burglar, thief arsonist arsonist arsonist.
The relationship reaches it's conclusion as the fighting continues he ruins her life steals her heart, hurts her feelings, manipulates her, and eventually burns all bridges.
tax assessor, magazine solicitor, census taker,
The relationship begins to sour as fighting occurs and he turns judge-mental picking apart parts of their lover their wealth, their class, their interests. Loving them becomes a chore.
where you are paperboy, mailman, garbage collector,
The relationship starts off happily he expresses his love, then regularly gives love to her in larger quantities, helps her when days are rough.
like the woman who came after us in the checkout, thin, with lots of rings on her hands, who looked us over openly.
We're so quick to pass judgement on others with rich and poor thick and thin young and old. We never are able to truly put ourselves in someone elses shoes.
This is where I would shop if my husband worked felling trees for the mill, hurting himself badly
Shows the husband floats around from job to job.
Roy, Kimberly, Bobby; too much in the hamper, never enough in the bank.
There's always so many things to pay for school, education, medical. But they just can't pay for them there's always things that need to be bought that just can't
In ninety seconds we made this life— a trailer on a windy hill, dangerous jobs
It really expresses how single actions, single moments can change someones life entirely