Seven Positions of Sorrow
by Mainon A Schwartz
Yesterday I cried, in bed.
I stared at the ceiling while tears ran
down from the corners of my eyes
and flooded my ears.
It made a hollow wetness,
less than the seashell-roaring of oceans.
The raging sorrow of one girl
makes such a small, small noise.
Today I cried, on my couch
with the TV loud
so that the hallway-walkers couldn't hear.
The tears were warm, as though
my thoughts had simply perspired,
sweated their way to the surface.
I soaked the cushions through.
Tomorrow I'll cry over breakfast--
I've not yet managed to leave eggs unsalted.
Or I'll save them for the walk to the mailbox.
It will be raining. The postman, as usual,
will notice nothing, except perhaps
that I've forgotten my umbrella.
Posted on 05/16/2006
Copyright © 2021 Mainon A Schwartz
|Member Comments on this Poem|
|Posted by Jo Halliday on 07/23/09 at 02:38 AM|
Very well written.
|Posted by Kristina Woodhill on 02/21/14 at 06:37 PM|
I realized I do not know the cause of the tears and it doesn't matter. I become immersed in this continuing unshared sorrow.
|Posted by Laura Doom on 02/22/14 at 11:09 AM|
Three positions here, so seven would represent one for each day of the week. A week of mourning? Or an implication this is an everyday occurrence. In S3, 'The postman, as usual...' suggests an extended malaise, though 'I've not yet managed...' offers the prospect of recovery, perhaps related to 'the walk to the mailbox'? 'hollow wetness' and 'raging sorrow' is a nice contrast, and the piece has an effective structure. More to this than the postman might imagine...