I spread your ashes

in waves of unrepeatable fire.

The moon clamps shut,

the stars hang amiss

in a sky without margins.

In my grief, my insatiable grief,

I rip out arteries and passages,

poems too unfocused for print,

poems hammered into shoe boxes

for later burial, or perhaps

a good ritualistic burning.

Isn’t it curious

that I am standing here,

shivering in my bare feet,

hours before sunrise?

Nothing ever happens

and when it does

I resent the implications.

You’re not dead at all

only missing in action

and I’ve burnt all your belongings

just because it satisfies

a certain hunger in me.

Miracles are often stingy,

I haven’t seen one in years,

and in this moment

I could really use one,

if only, to bridge the distance

between your comings and goings.

I have decided to share the poems I submitted to various poetry magazines. They were all rejected but I worked hard on them nevertheless.


18 responses to “Because

  1. Very powerful poetry, I really love that each verse can be seen as a standalone, but they paint such a powerful picture when read all together, in a row, or even not!
    I am sorry to hear about the magazine rejections! For what its worth, I and many more here agree you write fabulously and powerfully!

    • Thank you so much! I have received your book now and am reading at a slow pace so as to absorb it but also because I have extreme eye fatigue right now hence not even being around on the blog. Your poetry is pure genius, I am completely humbled by it

  2. I echo Oloriel’s statement 300%! “Rejection” is subjective – of course, this doesn’t necessarily make one feel better in the moment – but this piece (and I’m sure the others) are valuable as well. A gem in itself. Well written and powerfully evocative. You should be proud of your efforts Yves.

  3. I read this as a stand alone poem, in my bare feet, shivering because the poetry hit me hard.
    Rejection happens to writers — some of the best were rejected multiple times.
    I think your poetry worthy of publication. I wouldn’t reject this poem — unless it was supposed to be two lines on shoe boxes (just kidding) — the shoe box imagery really got me.
    I’ve had accepted writing become rejected writing for a very obvious subjective reason. And, I’ve had just rejected writing.

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