What is To Come

Poem of the Day:
"Wool Squares" by Donald Hall
The Painted Bed

Hall's The Painted Bed comes after the loss of his wife and fellow poet, Jane Kenyon; the void made by her death is his work. "Wool Squares" is no exception. He writes of the life that no longer is without his love; the time now is "'Leftover life to kill'" (line 7), he eats nothing but "Starvation's food" (line 15).

I do not know Hall's sentiments; I have yet to meet someone whose life is so intricately entwined with mine that his/her death is simultaneously my death. I know not of starvation's food.

Rather, I am gluttonous. Take today for example: Dan, Steph and I attended Boston's 'Scooper Bowl,' an annual event that benefits cancer research and upset stomachs. This is how it works: for eight dollars you get all you can eat ice cream from various ice cream vendors across Boston. Upon entrance you are granted your one and only spoon; it is your tool and your key to unlock the deliciousness of each ice cream tent. Then, you approach each tent (Ben & Jerry's, Edy's, Haagen Dazs) and pick up your small ice cream bowl from the various flavors being provided as samples.

I was nearly sick by the end but happy. I had tried Bailey's Irish Cream ice cream, Milk & Cookies ice cream, and others too damn creamy for the blogosphere.

So Hall, I hear you but I cannot lay my experiences down beside yours. Your poem frightens me; it is perhaps what is to come with old age and loss. But until "I taste/In solitude/Starvation's food" (lines 13-15) I'll be sure to eat myself sick.

Sincerely,
A Poem A Day Audrey