The letter

Poetry

I originally posted the finished version of the poem I was working out in the photo above on Flickr. Then I lost my nerve and deleted it. And then I felt weak and stupid for losing my nerve. So I’m posting it here, for your entertainment and enjoyment (or judgment. whatever.).

A letter to my grandmother, found in her desk.

A Pantoum.

I’m getting along as well as can be expected.
It was such an awful shock to me.
Charlie went so sudden.
He had been feeling fine.


It was such an awful shock to me.
He went out that morning at 5:30 to sweep snow.
He had been feeling fine.
It was two above zero.


He went out that morning at 5:30 to sweep snow.
I didn’t even know he was out there.
It was two above zero.
When he came in the house I woke up and got dressed.


I didn’t know he was out there.
He said he was awful hungry. “I’ll fry myself 2 eggs.”
When he came in the house I woke up and got dressed.
Those are the last words he said.


He said he was awful hungry. “I’ll fry myself 2 eggs.”
He fell backwards in front of the kitchen stove.
Those are the last words he said.
Sweeping is harder on the heart than shoveling.


He fell backwards in front of the kitchen stove.
Bob from the mortuary said Charlie was gone before he hit the floor.
Sweeping is harder on the heart than shoveling.
His blood vessels in his eyes were ruptured.


Charlie was gone before he hit the floor.
He went so sudden.
Eye Vessels ruptured.
Just a few lines to let you know I’m getting along as well as can be expected.