Poetry critique thread

This morning she was infuriated with me
because I cheated on her in a dream.
She poured herself a fresh cup of coffee
and dumbed the rest of the pot
down the drain.
God, I hate how much I love her sometimes.

SUp bitch
I dreamt about my anger
Like a coward

I dreamt about infidelity
Which makes me bad.
A figure in the diner we argued in asked,
“Why are you being so calm?”
I let my face run red, let spit leave my lips.
My veins bulged against down feathers

I dreamt about spite
Which makes me mean

I looked at a stranger and we sweat
And the mirror fogged.
Revenge is a lovely thing when it doesn’t count,
Anger and pleasure mix well when rules don’t apply

I dreamt about living alone
Which made me afraid

A bag filled with one coat
75 miles takes 9 hours with my eyes closed
I’ll allow myself bravery in a sleeping bag
Leaned against a tree I’ll never get to.

Edited.

Proteus

Adagio con moto - Largo e mesto

His crush-and-crackling soles upon the sand;
the seasweep shuttered to a bluegold band
by beaten grist and beads of broken rush,
reek of ruddy rockweed amongst the gush.
Oak twig tiptapping pushpits through the shoal -
a stilted sinusoidal stumble-stroll -
absently gentrifying crab chalets;
crimped crests of chartreuse champing on gilt graze.

The trackless mire meets his heel and burps,
releasing brackish breaths of sundried scum,
as caked-on crud unfolds into the earth
beneath his furrowed tread. Stiff rhythmic slurps
toned by streamspeech and mouths of slobbered plum,
his wife-and-mother plunged in childless birth.

\\

As the chapter is inspired by Proteus, I use the image as an germ before transforming not the image itself but its connotation. The character is changed from a young man to the old; from yearning to be touched to leaving his wife in childbirth; from a questioning of life to the mindless creation of it.