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From section 7, Dementia and Death, of Saltian
Hell’s kitchen
By Alice Shapiro
His accent reeks New York
that high-energy island
where a daily frenzied pace can kill
soot collects on window sills
sharing nostrils with seductive cocaine crack.
Biology catches up, eventually,
and faded body paint
branded into forearms
extracts metallic pain
when wheeled into an MRI machine.
He takes to bed to rest and cower
most unlike his youthful zeal
when sheets and pillows were wildly scattered
onto a city floor
as he explored a lover’s bower.
Critique
By Andrew Badger
Of all Alice’s poems that I’ve read, “Hell’s kitchen” is her strongest. Her imagery and diction create both hell and death, supporting her male protagonist. Her poetic rhythms move smoothly through most of the poem. However, there are two places where the diction is wrong, and there are three places where her diction misses both the male protagonist and the Hell established at the very beginning. My suggestions are intended to make a strong poem even stronger.
First, the two places where I believe the diction is wrong. The title of the poem, Hell’s kitchen, works well with Hell, but the poem misses everything that “kitchen” denotes or could possibly connote. I think the title could enhance the poem more if it focused on either the protagonist–such as denizen, or on the setting–possibly flophouse. But the only place we see “kitchen” is in the title. Next, the last line of stanza 1 ends with cocaine crack. According to my most reliable druggie friend, crack would not share the nostrils with soot. But just soot and seductive cocaine could really share a good snort.
Second, the three places where the diction allows us to avoid both Hell and maleness. The second stanza opens with a pop–biology–when it could deliver a bang. The entire first line dozes when it should crackle. I’d suggest the line to read “Abuse eventually exacts its dues” and then change the “and” in the next line to “even.” The final line of the stanza, “wheeled into an MRI machine,” again allows the reader to doze. My most reliable medical friend (not the druggie), told me that one of the most intimidating aspects of an MRI was the constant pulsing of the machine. Thus, I’d suggest rewriting the line as “when dragged through a pulsing MRI.” And finally, in the third stanza, “as he explored a lover’s bower” evokes Venus and possibly paradise, not a Hell-bound male. Furthermore, a second end rhyme in the poem (kill/sills in stanza 1) seems out of place in an unrhymed poem. Again, as you expect, I have an alternate–replace “as he explored a lover’s bower” with “entwined lovers’ passions.” Perhaps a little more Mars than Venus, but I don’t think it evokes Hell. But I guess you have the main idea of the criticism.
Now to follow precedent rather than our instructions, I’ll include a fourth paragraph–my emendations of Alice’s poem:
Hell’s denizen
His accent reeks New York
that high-energy island
where a daily frenzied pace can kill
soot collects on window sills
sharing nostrils with seductive cocaine.
Abuse eventually exacts its dues,
even faded body paint
branded into forearms
extracts metallic pain
when dragged through a pulsing MRI.
He takes to bed to rest and cower
most unlike his youthful zeal
when sheets and pillows wildly scattered
on a city floor
entwined lovers’ passions.
I know that my suggestions are made without seeing this poem in context.
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Andrew Badger is a writer and poet (and retired professor–Delta State University) whose work has appeared in Magnolia Quarterly and whose academic papers have appeared in numerous journals. His poem “Shaving Dad” won 1st place in the Picayune Writer’s Group annual contest in 2010. His chapbook Out on a Limb was released earlier in 2011.
