Honestly, if I could repeat all the steps
count each one under my breath
clown about and shed crocodile tears
into the dustbin,
I most certainly would --
like the wrong-sided carbon copy
-of you leaving-
I kept writing against myself.
I think the first five lines are replaceable, to me they're not personal enough, so that at the end of the poem (which is delicate -as well as being loaded) there's not much of a contrast. IT seems sterile and unimaginative, whereas the last three lines are anything but.
What I take from the last three lines, primarily, is the abrupt.
I know that's terrible English, but the abrupt without even the common decency to add on a ness
why, that about some it up.
You could hate somebody for that. You could hate yourself for that. Talking away, talking away, and the bastard has left the room.
Secondarily, I think if you're left writing on the wrong side of a carbon copy, what you're actually doing is making a mess.
Those two things sum that shit up superbly, superbly in the sense that there's super subtlety in how you've
tans/ported the meaning.
Imo, it's a poem you'd read again and again, elusive craft. I don't think it's finished though. That's cool. Got plenty of those myself -and as long as keep hold of the key ingredients there will always be a time to go back and make it work.
You're an intelligent and artful person
and it's opportunity to be
able to come and read your work.
I only got a taste of what you mean by the third to fourth line, and personally I wish you'd revolve more around that. I get this sense of guiltless shame, but I'm afraid that I've misunderstood. There's nothing to grasp here, it's all a guess. What is it that you're holding? What is it that you're trying to say? Or maybe I'm just looking for answers to the wrong questions, correct me if you will.