Michael Diehl, Teacup
Elegy for Leslie
Neighbors found her labradoodle
wandering, leash attached, through
their front yard, walked him home
to find her body sprawled
over threshold, “to-do” list
clutched in her hand.
I wish I could declare deep meaning
from her death, declaim rolling
phrases poets pen at these moments,
but I can’t.
I can share her list. Five items —
two checked off.
– Pick up cupcakes for meeting
– walk dog
– call Tom, schedule date night
– finish book draft
– tell my son I love him.
________________
Peter M. Gordon
Review by Sherry Mossafer Rind
We know from the title that this one might hurt, and it does. Like “Lox,” it focuses on the ordinary details of life with spare description and sentiment without sentimentality, the helpless feeling of being unable to describe a death. A simple “to do” list becomes significant with poignancy and loss.
Review by Claire Scott
What lovely simple lines that convey grief without using the clichés that “poets pen.” The only word I stumbled over was “clutched.” It seems to give too much life to the dead woman and the hard “c” doesn’t sound quite right. I love the intimate details of this woman’s life. It tells us so much about who she is. Bravo!!
Review by Jared Pearce
Several years ago I heard a similar story about a woman in the country. Her neighbors hadn’t seen her in a while and went to investigate. They found her in her kitchen—she had just unloaded groceries (which were rotting in the room) and passed away. The human reality of the list is starkly beautiful.
Review by Massimo Fantuzzi
The humanity summoned and pouring from this composition! Again, from a joint of simple deeds and modest doings, we open the door to a universe of mysteries. Mysteries we won’t pretend to speak for.
There is always a list of intents, an unfinished book behind every drawer left ajar, on the bedside cabinet, in the bathroom, kitchen. What will feature our last list? The question of quantity or quality. Still, two ticks out of five boxes – result!
Review by Paul Willis
Such a haunting poem. The woman, dead on her threshold, to-do list in hand—and the contents of the list revealed in the final lines. The editorializing in the middle of the poem I could do without: “I wish I could declare deep meaning / from her death,” etc. But even with this interruption the poem still packs a punch.
Review by Sue Fagalde Lick
I can’t get this poem out of my head. That image of the leashed dog wandering without its owner while the woman lies in the doorway holding her to-do list haunts me. I’m struck by the mix of trivial and essential tasks, the ache of things not done, and the knowledge that this is how it is for all of us. In the end, the poet tells us, there is not much one can say, except here’s her list. I love the simplicity of this poem, sparse with minimal punctuation and no attempt to be “poetic.” Just “here it is.” And that’s what makes it unforgettable.