Murder

Last night, limping, I walked. All the way to the edge

of myself, scheming how to get out of this hellish

crab bucket, these last 10 years corroding the alloy - slag

of an ordinary day. It felt cold. My gun stashed into the

the back of the wheelhouse. Hands shaking, I saw the tears

stammering behind your eyes when I winched the rope out.

From that moment, there was no going back. The fear,

like a crouching adder, coiled around your lips,

inviting you to kneel. Hands behind your back, I said,

forcing a black hood over your head. It was tender,

the two shots to the back of the neck, one to the heart,

twisting my ankle, shoving you off the ship, I felt

a kiss on my cheek, you floating away. Free, I cried.

A kiss on your cheek, me, floating away free. You cried

twisting your ankle, shoving me off the ship. I felt

the two shots to the back of the neck, one to the heart

forcing a black hood over my head. It was tender,

inviting me to kneel, hands behind my back. You said,

like a crouching adder coiled around my lips:

“From this moment, there is no going back.” The fear

stammering behind my eyes. When you winched the rope out

the back of the wheelhouse, hands shaking, I saw the tears

of an ordinary day. It felt cold, your gun. Stashed into the

crab bucket, these last 10 years, corroding the alloy - slag

of yourself, scheming. How to get out of this hellish

last night? Limping, you walked all the way to the edge.

This poem was published in Interpreter's House issue 58 at the beginning of 2015. I am aware it isn't even close to 500 words and therefore would not be eligible for the challenge. However, I made the decision to put it out there for Prose writers to have a look at, mostly because it fits the prompt about Death.

I would appreciate any feedback on not only the form but also this particular poem. I am currently writing a script from the narrative and hoping to film it in the near future.

This piece was by far the hardest to write for me as I submitted myself to a form and its constraints for the first time. Blood, sweat and tears definitely were part of the writing process.

The form I tried to emulate is called mirror poem after Julia Copus. The rules of it as are follows:

1. From the mid point of the poem every word contained upto that point must be used in the reverse order.

2. The punctuation may be varied in order for the structure to make sense.

I also made some variations to pronouns and point of view to further enhance (in my opinion) the mirror effect. Do let me know if this works for you.

Although Julia Copus is credited with creating this form (a claim she made), there is a previous example by James A. Lindon printed in Dmitri Borgmann's Beyond Language (1967). A little more research reveals palindrome poems stretch back through Sanskrit poetry into antiquity. However since Julia Copus' name for the form is rather interesting that is the one it is honoured with here.