Thread: Xanax

A poem exploring grief

Xanax


Half a Xanax and an awkward hug:
Gifts to my sister at our mother’s
Funeral. My father-in-law owns
A mortuary just outside town
Near the old playground. Tomorrow
I have to deal with lawyers and bills and what
To do with an unfinished will.

Sunday night after the ceremony
I snuck into my mother’s study
And stole her wedding photo. I’m
Amazed by how well she kept my bedroom.
It’s as if I have never left this house.

The stairs creak and the floor boards speak
Mistaking me for someone else.

I feel ashamed the morning after
By how well I slept. It’s as if nothing
Ever happened.

This reads more like a story then a poem. The formatting is in a poem form but to me, reading it, feels more of a story.

A poem exploring grief

Xanax


Half a Xanax and an awkward hug: I like this line
Gifts to my sister at our mother’s Gifts given to my sister
Funeral. My father-in-law owns Our Mother's Funeral
A mortuary just outside town My father-in-laws mortuary
Near the old playground. Tomorrow Laying just ouside of town
I have to deal with lawyers and bills and what The old playground near
To do with an unfinished will. Dealing with lawyer and bills
The unfinished will.
Sunday night after the ceremony I like this line
I snuck into my mother’s study Sneaking into my mother's study
And stole her wedding photo. I’m Grabbing her wedding photo
Amazed by how well she kept my bedroom. Looking into my old bedroom
It’s as if I have never left this house. Amazed by the perfection she kept.
Made it seem as if I never left.
The stairs creak and the floor boards creak The stairs and floor boards creak
Mistaking me for someone else. Mistaking me.

I feel ashamed the morning after Feeling ashamed the morning after
By how well I slept. It’s as if nothing My sleep not disturbed
Ever happened. Made me think nothing happened

If I'm reading this wrong, sorry. Just ideas

I do like this, I feel it explores the mundane aspects of grief if you see what I mean- the bills, the sorting everything out, the practicalities. I like the tweaks sadiemaddie suggested, it would just help it pack a bit of punch. Good job

I like this and the feelings it brings. I do think that some of the line breaks could be changed for a better read and effect. I also enjoyed the ending, the feelings of guilt and shame the person felt comes through clearly.

Welcome Hinducow, I think you've done a wonderful job with this piece. It's honest and the voice has an almost methodic quality which is so appropriate for the auto pilot days that follow loss. Your use of the creaking stairs mistaking you for someone else is brilliant. I have taken the liberty to adjust the enjambment for a smoother flow and I have removed all unnecessary caps. I haven't altered your words save to add the first my in S1, L2. You are in no way obligated to edit this piece based on my suggestions. Again, welcome and I look forward to reading more of your work.

Best,
Lisa

Half a Xanax and an awkward hug,
my gifts to my sister
at our mother’s funeral.
My father-in-law owns
a mortuary just outside town,
near the old playground.
Tomorrow, I have to deal
with lawyers and bills
and what to do
with an unfinished will.

Sunday night,
after the ceremony,
I snuck into my mother’s study
and stole her wedding photo.
I’m amazed by how well
she kept my bedroom.
It’s as if I have never
left this house.

The stairs creak
and the floor boards creak,
mistaking me
for someone else.

I feel ashamed the morning after
by how well I slept.
It’s as if nothing
ever happened.

Thank you all for the feedback regarding the poem. The reason for the structure is that I was trying to keep a consistent meter throughout the poem (I don't think I did that great of a job).
There is one mistake that I just corrected: It should be "the floorboards speak" instead of creak.
woops