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Friday, December 13, 2024

Matthew Zapruder: ‘Failed Elegy’ – The Atlantic


Discover the December 2024 Concern

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It appears as of late
each poem is a failed elegy

for the world. Each
asks accurately, what good

did scripting this do? I can not
deny I typically really feel anger

on the similarities between me
and an oil firm, particularly

on what’s as soon as once more
the most popular day ever recorded.

It’s so straightforward to do nothing
besides lament our success

at writing ineffective laments.
I have to confess I too

as soon as wrote a ridiculous elegy
for a damaged nail clipper.

I mentioned it caught the sunshine
of a distant star the place beings

look down on us, disillusioned
but hopeful we’ll, like poets,

put issues in the correct order
simply in time. The clipper

emitted a complicated not very
mysterious blue mild. Typically

it appears to me the job of a poet
is generally to rearrange the deck chairs

subsequent to an ideal blue
swimming pool, then in these

chairs to doze. In one other failed
elegy I described how all day

we walked by means of mist to get
to the precise spot the place Dean specified

we should always disperse his ashes.
It was windy, and we received lots of him

on our fingers. Within the poem I wrote
he shares the title of a chef

at Infinity Hospital, which sounds
like however is just not a gorgeous lie.

Then I wrote, after I think about how
he should have felt to attempt to write

poems with a brand new coronary heart
he received from somebody youthful

who died, I really feel mine
fill with the echo of alternative,

which was not precisely or maybe
too true. The reality is I walked

alongside by means of the mist considering
many boring issues, not feeling

a lot of something besides
like stopping. We walked

by means of a discipline of wildflowers
that left some yellow powder

on our sneakers. I simply wished
to be residence with my spouse and son,

however the mist actually did appear countless.
Not like loss of life, it was not. We drove

slowly by means of the little city
till we discovered a spot to eat

and didn’t communicate of loss of life.
Talking of talking of loss of life,

Emily Dickinson in contrast herself
to the little wren as a result of she knew

it was small and unremarkable.
It sings probably the most notes and typically

will take a trip for a short time
to eternity within the overcoat

of a passing stranger.


This poem seems within the December 2024 print version. It has been excerpted from Matthew Zapruder’s assortment, I Love Listening to Your Goals.

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