All Comments on 'pink gown'

such powerful emotion tucked within the delicate pink fabric. A fearsome take on sensuality and probability, when beauty mutates into something very different. This message was wonderfully handled, drawing me into the imagery, making me a part of the diagnosis. Well done...

jim : )

W/O comment, sorry, please allow mine to mirror Jim's.

There is something in this poem I find quitely disturbing that I can't quite put my finger on. The inevitable demise of beauthy and the erotic? I'm not sure. I feel I should enjoy this poem but I don't. Though I think the poem is all the stronger for the reaction it causes in me.

bb

I read this on the passion thread. You did a fabulous job revising this piece. Great imaginary - I felt I was right there with you. I can't say which lines are my favorite. It's good, anna. Damn good!

I'm glad I didn't go cross-eyed on this one. :)

Write on!

Only you could make beautiful poetry out of the ritual of the mamogram. I love this.

Tess

wonderfully touching

...is how they communicate to me something about what it is to be a woman—the experience of being a woman. This is one of those poems.

I think this is potentially quite a strong poem, but is somewhat flawed in its current edit. Just me speaking and I am nowhere near as good a writer as you are, but that's my feeling.

Some comments:

--Did you intend "gapped" fabric in line 3? "Gaped" works, I suppose, but seems wrong.

--In strophe 4, I am a bit confused. My first impression was that this was the mammography operator telling "you" (narrator) that there was a problem with your test. Re-reading it suggests that this is "you" talking to another patient in the waiting room about her (previous?) tests. Obviously I was a bit lost here. The next strophe I think makes this latter interpretation clearer.

--"another confection joins us" is a great line.

--"we look like overgrown girls / we look..." etc. seems superfluous to me. I think you've already implied the "overgrown girls" image with the emphasis on pink and the "ribbons / on the trunk of a lexus" doesn't work for me, in fact breaks the main image down as there are so many different colored ribbons people sport on cars. (I would say yellow would be the most common, but there are a lot of military bases in my area, so it could just be what I'm used to seeing.)

--I would drop the last line. The poem, I think, is about "your" (narrator's) reactions and feelings. Leave us with your feelings, and leave the focus on you.

Overall, I think an extremely vivid portayal of the experience, the doubt, the nervousness.

Your poems, when you are on, communicate emotion very well. You're on in this poem.

Thanks for a very interesting read.

Very powerful stuff here.

I read this early in the am,

About four or five times

And drew several images;

This can't be right - my brain's turned to mush.

After a good night's sleep,

Half through the day,

I read it again and now see what I missed.

Especially struck by the image of self-consciousness in the waiting room, of not making eye contact. Aloneness in a room with other people.

The only part that doesn't seem quite right is:

"we look like overgrown girls

we look like magnetic ribbons

on the trunk of a lexus"

Perhaps:

"we look like overgrown girls

or worse, like magnetic ribbons

on the trunk of a lexus"

I loved getting to it, the tightly packed beauty in these short lines.

Earlier, I felt like the omission of subjects and punctuation sometimes didn't serve your fine language, did not allow the amazing little images to pop out of the lines as they deserve to (as, of course, the subject pops out.)

Love, however, the juxtaposition of the objectified breast and the cancerous one. I love it when a poem disconcerts us like this, makes us reflect back on our own position as gazers.

Lil' Min

I have read this poem for every day since it was first posted and can't think of anything to say about it. It is so powerfully unsettling.

The most touching poem I've ever read. So dainty yet

dangerous. Be very proud of this. sand

This was amazing and powerful. My mother died of breast cancer with complications and this so spoke to me, Anna. You made me cry. But a good cry. Thanks.