Exercise in Fragility

If grief has a flavor
it’s strawberry
seeds stuck in dental work
If despair commutes
it’s stuck on Route 9
forgetting the back way
Sadness sings all the songs
on Imperial Bedroom
and Zenyatta Mondatta
smells like your deodorant
anticipates meaty hands
circling its waist
constantly rubs a bruise
with its left thumb
waits for rain


  1. Those first two lines are a poem (and a philosophy) all by themselves. Grief is such a complex state of being, bittersweet... sweet, sour and seedy, too.

  2. You captured the depth of grief so well.

  3. "If despair commutes
    it’s stuck on Route 9"

    Those are my favorite lines, but this entire piece is just gorgeous.

  4. A wonderful poem of conquering lament and depression. Literally though, Strawberry seeds stuck in one's teeth would be the worst. They would pray to take root, the holder sure wouldn't. We had breakfast at La Madeleine's this morning, I had loads of strawberry on my bread and the croissant part I didn't eat that came home with us. Better look in the cavities. I hope our despair all gets stuck on our Route 99 (things are big in Texas).

  5. Oh dear, the rubbed bruise says so much about despair.

  6. I almost feel to talk about banality of sorrow in travesty of Hannah Arendt's Banality of evil... but maybe it's a way to mend...

  7. This is wonderful, Marian. Love the route 9 line but all lines. K.

  8. 1982? no, earlier. college. despair was a close companion then. ~


Thank you for sharing your thoughts!