They moved the furniture out in an afternoon.Thirty years of a life organized around other people's children,boxed by people who never once sat in her chairlong enough to understand why the good pens were hidden in the second drawer.
I kept one of her lesson plans, water-stained,margins crowded with a handwriting arguing with itself —not for the lesson. For the proofthat someone thought this hard about a Tuesday.
I don't believe there's a room somewhere that remembers us.I believe there's a drawer, somewhere, with the good pens still in it,and that has to be enough shape for a life to leave behind.
About the elegyA poem of mourning or reflection, often for someone who has died.
An elegy grieves. It usually mourns a person who has died, though it can also mourn a place, a time, or something lost. It may move from sorrow toward acceptance, or simply stay with the loss. Elegies take no single fixed shape.
Listen for Grief spoken plainly, remembered details, and where the poem leaves the loss.
4 poems in this form →@imre
Thirty-one years teaching. Still can't stop noticing what actually stuck.
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