Friday's Fish

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The roses have been sung about.
I want to sing of the thorns...
     -Olav H. Hauge "Briar"

The cupboards are full
of your ashes,
your letters,
your stories, your books.

I take them down
to salt my fish for Friday.
My heart
is steeped in vinegar
and my lungs burn in grief.

Still, you remain gone,
yet the cupboard is replenished
with your flavor
every hushed moment.

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6 Comments
SweetOblivionSweetOblivionover 14 years ago
This is very good indeed

Poignant and precise - I love the conciseness and the way you convey the sense of loss in such pedestrian things. M

Bill DadaBill Dadaover 14 years ago
^

This is a very well done poem, but I agree with wildsweetone, the poem would be even better if you lose the 'still' and 'yet', like the following:

'you remain gone,

the cupboard is replenished

with your flavor

every hushed moment.'

Of course I could be full of crap.

wildsweetonewildsweetoneover 14 years ago
i really enjoy your poetry.

in this one, the last stanza has 'Still' and the second line 'yet'. i feel as if using both words is almost too much.

AnonymousAnonymousover 14 years ago
Nice!

Your poem was mentioned in the New Poetry Recommendations in the Poetry Feedback & Discussion forum. Well done!

EroticOrogenyEroticOrogenyover 14 years ago
Thorny subject

nice job of expressing grief and dealing with it.

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