Five gutted stubs in circle drawn
Round sockets drained of dusk and tar,
Four splinters etched on papers’ scorns
Now drowned and sealed in molten scars.

Thoughts about it – by E. Ashcroft

This quatrain stages an image of ritualized aftermath: five “gutted stubs” arranged in a circle, four “splinters” etched upon scorned papers, everything finally “drowned and sealed in molten scars.” The dominant semantic field is one of combustion and residue. What we witness is not the act itself, but its remains. It suggests a clandestine rite, perhaps the destruction of documents, perhaps an occult ceremony, perhaps something metaphorical, such as the annihilation of memory or testimony. The circle of stubs implies deliberation, not accident. This is arranged ruin.

There is, implicitly, a narrative. Five burnt remnants encircle emptied “sockets drained of dusk and tar,” an image that conflates eye sockets with candle holders or perhaps bullet holes. The phrase is evocative but also perilously vague. “Four splinters etched on papers’ scorns” introduces writing, or at least inscription, now obliterated. The final line completes the process: whatever was inscribed has been drowned, sealed, scarred. The poem therefore seems to recount the erasure of evidence. Something was written. Something was destroyed. What remains is ritual geometry and scar tissue.

Stylistically, the piece leans heavily into compressed, imagistic density. The diction is stark, Anglo-Saxon in texture: gutted, stubs, drained, tar, splinters, scars. The tone is grim and tactile. There is a commendable commitment to atmosphere. However, this density sometimes borders on opacity. “Sockets drained of dusk and tar” is suggestive but semantically unstable. Are these literal sockets, metaphorical eyes, burnt candle cups, empty bullet chambers? Ambiguity can be fruitful; here it risks feeling like calculated obscurity.

Technically, the rhyme scheme is a tight ABAB: drawn scorns, tar scars. The rhymes are imperfect but effective. “Drawn” and “scorns” rely on consonantal echo rather than pure rhyme; “tar” and “scars” offer a more resonant pairing. The slant quality suits the poem’s charred aesthetic. The meter, however, wavers. The first line has a blunt, trochaic thrust. The second stretches slightly. The third line becomes rhythmically awkward, especially with “papers’ scorns,” whose possessive construction feels syntactically strained, as if rhyme dictated grammar. The fourth line regains composure and lands with satisfying finality.

There is also a curious numerical asymmetry: five stubs, four splinters. Whether intentional or not, it creates a subtle imbalance. One expects numerical symmetry in ritual imagery. If deliberate, it hints at loss, at something missing. If accidental, it is an intriguing accident.

The imagery of “molten scars” is strong, almost excessively so. It is a phrase that announces its own seriousness. One might accuse it of melodrama, but it is undeniably vivid. The poem’s strength lies in this visceral concreteness. Its weakness lies in a certain self-conscious gloom. It wants very much to be dark, and occasionally one senses it trying a little too hard.

Overall, the quatrain succeeds in creating a claustrophobic tableau of destruction and sealing. It is more about mood than clarity, more about residue than event. With slightly firmer syntactic control and a touch more restraint in its more baroque phrases, it could achieve a sharper, more disciplined impact. As it stands, it is compelling, if faintly theatrical in its severity.

Marco Delrio