After the third line, the poem abruptly changes from dialogue to description as Light launches into a spirited rant that describes the object of her ire as “a canvas on which paint never dries, a clay that never sets, steel that bends in a breeze (and) a melody that when it ends, no one can whistle”, (Light 4-7). This semantic division conjures an image of Light herself angrily ranting, no longer at the poem’s intended audience, but at herself, as she is now lost in her own emotion, making her disgust palpable. As a final blow to the source of her repugnance, Light concludes her work by stating, “You have to... see what he is; how it is killing you”, (Light 15-16). Well-intentioned as it may seem, this line holds more than friendly
After the third line, the poem abruptly changes from dialogue to description as Light launches into a spirited rant that describes the object of her ire as “a canvas on which paint never dries, a clay that never sets, steel that bends in a breeze (and) a melody that when it ends, no one can whistle”, (Light 4-7). This semantic division conjures an image of Light herself angrily ranting, no longer at the poem’s intended audience, but at herself, as she is now lost in her own emotion, making her disgust palpable. As a final blow to the source of her repugnance, Light concludes her work by stating, “You have to... see what he is; how it is killing you”, (Light 15-16). Well-intentioned as it may seem, this line holds more than friendly