At the store, on the hanger, the blue dress must have fallen
like water to a froth of frilled hem, its bodice as smocked
as a christening gown. A season out of date, her mother chose it
from our local department store chiefly for the high collar,
but I knew it was a dress Lisa wouldn’t have been caught
dead in. Just hidden under the neckband of lace, the circle
of her purple necklace, each dark bead a fingertip of efficient
bruise that we already knew about anyway, and simply went on
imagining, as we, her classmates, filed past the white coffin.
This is a poem that masters both immense darkness and surprise. I can see why Poetry Daily also chose to feature it over the coming week. It is a perfect example of letting vivid description and imagery lead in a poem, rather than drama or the emotion. This garners greater impact at the end when the subject is revealed. For a short, simple poem, it packs a macabre punch that is rather poignant for the Noir issue.
I agree. It’s a terrific piece.
This poem is incredible. The amount of power in this single stanza is extraordinary.
The title foreshadows a very different scene than a funeral, but the beads as “a fingertip of efficient bruise that we already knew about anyway” carries both – as Kiki describes it – “darkness” and a sense of mystery in the children’s familiarity with the sight.
This is the kind of poem that leaves you both breathless and gasping for more.
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