Why not make a fiction of the mind's fictions?
Natasha Tretheweythe dark foil in this American story
Natasha TretheweyA man's pursuit of knowledge is greater than his shortcomings, the limits of his vision.
Natasha TretheweyAfter Your Death
First, I emptied the closets of your clothes,
threw out the bowl of fruit, bruised
from your touch, left empty the jars
you bought for preserves. The next morning,
birds rustled the fruit trees, and later
when I twisted a ripe fig loose from its stem,
I found it half eaten, the other side
already rotting, or—like another I plucked
and split open—being taken from the inside:
a swarm of insects hollowing it. I’m too late,
again, another space emptied by loss.
Tomorrow, the bowl I have yet to fill.
Tags: poetry loss death mourning poem grief figs tidying
I think poets are people who are like this; for whatever reason you feel psychological exile because you’re always an outsider...
Natasha TretheweyGoodbye is the waving map of your palm, is a stone on my tongue.
Natasha TretheweyAlthough I had intended to consider the impossibility of returning to those places we’ve come from—not because the places are gone or substantially different but because we are—by August of 2005, the poem had become quite literal: so much of what I’d known of my home was either gone or forever changed.
Trethewey, Natasha (2010-09-15). Beyond Katrina: A Meditation on the Mississippi Gulf Coast (Sarah Mills Hodge Fund Publication) (Kindle Locations 79-81). University of Georgia Press. Kindle Edition.
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