An Elegy: To Loss
The Fall is here—
Time for stockings, mittens on cold evenings.
You lost a mitten on your way home.
You cried because it was your favorite—
Red. The last straw
After Grandma and the kitten.
The leaves have left their place in the trees.
We crush them underfoot
As we walk the sidewalks to school and back
Home, searching for your red mitten
Amongst the red leaves.
We don’t find it.
You sigh and we return to the white house,
The green trim—
To Mother and Father and split-pea soup.
Time for stockings, mittens on cold evenings.
You lost a mitten on your way home.
You cried because it was your favorite—
Red. The last straw
After Grandma and the kitten.
The leaves have left their place in the trees.
We crush them underfoot
As we walk the sidewalks to school and back
Home, searching for your red mitten
Amongst the red leaves.
We don’t find it.
You sigh and we return to the white house,
The green trim—
To Mother and Father and split-pea soup.
posted by Paige | 11:36 AM
1 Comments:
First, go read Bishop's "One Art" and Hopkins' "Spring and Fall"; also Billy Collins' "Where I Live" (in Picnic, Lightning).
I think it's a good beginning, but it doesn't feel finished to me. I think it needs to be longer, and the ending doesn't really satisfy as it is. I'm not really sure what it means- what are you trying to convey with the house and the parents and the soup? If you need some help mulling over ideas, let me know, but I think the above poems might help- all very different, but all about loss in one form or another. If you can't find the poems let me know and I'll send you copies.
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