Emma, have you read any poems by Max Ritvo? He was writing his thesis at Columbia right before he died of Ewing's sarcoma. Brilliant writer, highly recommend if you haven't read him. Sarah Ruhl wrote a book of their letters together, "Letters From Max" that is being made into a play that is debuting soon. I think you'd like it!
"The weight of my earnest affection." You got me there. And your book - the astonishing miracle of 'This Time Tomorrow.' For some weird reason I thought of you last night and wondered where you were at in your grief. I remember wishing we still could wear black arm bands when my dad died, so people would just know. Sending a hug your way...
Brilliant, brilliant, brilliant, brilliant!!! Lurve so much your The Things That Didn't poem. So completely true as I spend time with my just-turned 97-year-old dad and he asks me, lucidly cuz his brain still mostly works, Why am I still here? And clearly I have no answer except that, as you poemize so eloquently, there are things that just haven't gotten him yet. And per Hoagland, life is still picking his pocket. Thank you for this. So perfect!
Thanks for writing this and sharing it. I never “got” poetry until my daughter died, but death poems have brought me a lot of comfort over the last many months. I’m going to read the ones you’ve listed here!
(This Time Tomorrow also brought me great comfort, so thank you for that as well!)
Emma, have you read any poems by Max Ritvo? He was writing his thesis at Columbia right before he died of Ewing's sarcoma. Brilliant writer, highly recommend if you haven't read him. Sarah Ruhl wrote a book of their letters together, "Letters From Max" that is being made into a play that is debuting soon. I think you'd like it!
yes! I do indeed! <3
"The weight of my earnest affection." You got me there. And your book - the astonishing miracle of 'This Time Tomorrow.' For some weird reason I thought of you last night and wondered where you were at in your grief. I remember wishing we still could wear black arm bands when my dad died, so people would just know. Sending a hug your way...
now I'm crying...
Brilliant, brilliant, brilliant, brilliant!!! Lurve so much your The Things That Didn't poem. So completely true as I spend time with my just-turned 97-year-old dad and he asks me, lucidly cuz his brain still mostly works, Why am I still here? And clearly I have no answer except that, as you poemize so eloquently, there are things that just haven't gotten him yet. And per Hoagland, life is still picking his pocket. Thank you for this. So perfect!
Beautiful poem, thank you.
Love love love these
"I wonder how many poems the Iphone has stolen from the world." Wow oh wow oh wow.
I hope you write a lot more and share them with us.
"The weight of my earnest affection." God, this took my breath away. ❤️
I love everything about your poem and thank you for the excellent round up of other grief poetry. I'm sure you saw this yesterday but in case not, thought you might appreciate: https://www.nytimes.com/2023/01/30/opinion/death-grief-memory.html
so beautiful (your poem and everything that came before it). ❤️
oof--beautiful, Emma.
Have you read Medical History by Nicole Sealey?
oooh yessssss!
Thanks for writing this and sharing it. I never “got” poetry until my daughter died, but death poems have brought me a lot of comfort over the last many months. I’m going to read the ones you’ve listed here!
(This Time Tomorrow also brought me great comfort, so thank you for that as well!)