All Comments on 'No one taught you how to lay concrete'

the metaphor in this as well as the raw emotion expressed in your language. Good use of similes as well, makes the poem more engaging. Great title!

from the edge of a trowel. Reminiscent of Maxine Kumin's In Country and other poems.

nicely done,

jim : )

ps: quick construction lesson... you'll want to "place" concrete instead of lay it. Of course if you say that we'll think you work construction.

Anna, come spend a day with me at work. Watching the pour, when it has to go up 110 feet is amazing..I always wondered how they "did that".

You are so versatile. Your work shows this. You handle any subject with knowledge, grace and enviable ease.

This is lovely. sorry for the shallow praise, but it is. Thank you for letting me into your life, again

xoxoxo---maria

the sixth poem I read today, and one that had the greatest imaginary. I like the title and how it lead to the first line of the poem. It is in need of better punctuation, but it didn't take away from the flow or the message.

Your capacity for the observation and description of small events looks so natural but isn't too easy to imitate .Incidentally in the UK you are at liberty to lay, lay down, pour and even place concrete.

the stop gap

patchwork patch job

wordsblended and bended

on your tricky knife

spread thick grouted

to careful lines between

an amazing moziac of images

we all step back and are amazed

swirlly wrilly grrl

Sorry. I disagree. Not spectacluar. Mundane. But then I am not in the mutaual stroking society.

I question the structure of the second strophe, simply because it is inconsistent with the rest of the poem.

To me, it looks better this way:

From Nana’s porch

you saw the gears catch Allen’s fingers,

held wet washcloths for the blood

and over kitten’s eyes,

softened crust, drained the puss.

Your human look at every day items is very professionally done. You stay at a distance, and never ever allow sentimentality to creep into your poetry.

just saying it's not mundane.

I did cringe reading about Allen's fingers and the puss. I'm squeamish.

is as mundane as mutaual (ah, there is that extra "a" I've been looking for). This poem is as extraordinary as the woman it is about.