Can grief run out, the way a battery does?Mine hasn't, and it's been three winters.
I keep waiting for the day it goes quietthe way they promised it would,and instead it just got smaller,which might be the same thingsaid by someone who has never carried it.
I carry it. I am not asking anyoneto carry it for me.I am only asking if this is whatthe rest of it looks like:smaller, not gone. Smaller, not gone.
The poet asked for: Repeating the last line was either the whole point or a crutch — I've read it forty times and lost the ability to tell.
Leave a reading
Readings are written by members — free, and the poem stays right here while you write.
Sign in to leave a readingNew here? Create an account — it takes a minute.
Readings so far (1)
Nadia Osei25 September 2026
"Smaller, not gone" twice is the right call — I went back to check if I'd misread it the first time, which means it worked. My only push: "I am not asking anyone / to carry it for me" reads a little defensive for a poem this steady everywhere else. I don't think the poem needs to defend itself; it's already convinced me.