Just another symptom, they tell me,
this pervasive, overpowering smell
souring everything around me. It sinks
like rage into floors and hand-woven
Indian rugs, poisoning symmetry with
its uneven stench. Just another misfire
in this mysterious brain. Another kind
of pain. Another unfamiliar visitor from
the understory of incomprehensible
illness. Another of the same.
I like this, the words flow, the unusual imagery have a symmetry (sinks like rage, poisoning symmetry, misfire…brain, another of the same. A dynamic energy.
This is very important testimony – it’s possible that no one’s ever written a poem about this before. So I hope you make a mental note to come back to it in a month or three. Not that it isn’t already pretty good. “Sink[ing] like rage into the floor” is powerful. Not sure about the repetion of “another” – seems a little lazy, like something I’d do.
Thanks, Dave — note made!
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