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POETRY: UNTITLED (I will go simply)
BY: TESS NEALON RASKIN
I will go simply.
Like moths peeling from yellowed screens,
like a dirty plate slipping under the grey water of the sink,
I will wait for my time.
Not under hot, energy efficient lights
and white sheets as flocks of sobs press like hail against
my aging skin, no, not by the hands of
teddy-bear, plastic flowers,
wall cross, Christmas ornament
always-in-our-hearts angels.
My father’s father writhed inside his head
as we kept him on drips and medicines,
his eyes closed, long gone
and I felt myself join in a throng
of tired, inherited tears.
When I have learned all there is to learn,
I will fix myself a warm, sweet drink in my favorite glass
soften my thoughts and walk into the water
to feel the moonlight on my skin
for the poetry of my body to give out quietly
out of the blue, and into the black.
Raskin's poem was a semifinalist in a 2021 teen writing contest held by Brooklyn Public Library, and appeared in its resulting journal. It was also highlighted in a curated list of poems representing the seven stages of grief.
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