There is no shouting.
The sheen is bright.
Only hairline cracks
reveal a trembling.
The sheen is bright.
Pre-shocks
reveal a trembling.
A portent.
Pre shocks
fracture.
A portent.
His face.
Fracture.
Blood falls.
His face.
Too close.
Blood falls
Soreness.
too close.
A child curled up.
Soreness.
Only hairline cracks.
A child curled up.
There is no shouting.
Perfect form, the pantoum’s repetitions work really well for the subject, as do the fragmentary lines. I guess the only question I have is about ‘the sheen’ – I’m not sure what is sheening and therefore can’t picture it.
Super poem, disturbing, sinister. ‘His face./Too close.’ Ugh.
I sense a memory of some traumatic experience. The repeated words and phrases create the strongest of atmospheres. Great!