The Ventriloquist, and: Grieving
2020; Johns Hopkins University Press; Volume: 13; Issue: 3 Linguagem: Inglês
10.1353/thr.2020.0053
ISSN1939-9774
Autores Tópico(s)Grief, Bereavement, and Mental Health
ResumoThe Ventriloquist, and: Grieving Jerl Surratt (bio) THE VENTRILOQUIST Having hung a bedroom mirrorI sat down near it on a corner of the bed.Hunched over and resting my elbowson my knees, I stared at what looked likea stranger in the mirror. He spoketo suggest I lift the hammer I still heldin my right hand and lightly lay its business end against my head,my temple, rather. Which I did.Then he didn't ask so muchas tell me to, to tap just once,see how it feels, you might enjoy it,you might even want to do it again,maybe next time a little bit harder. I tried it once while watching himwatch me do it. We both smiled,the hammer at rest where it had been.The iron was warming to my skinwhen something shifted in the closet,whose door was closed. We're not alonehere anymore, I heard him say, his lips this time not moving.You better get up, get going. [End Page 360] GRIEVING At times like this I'm proneTo thinking two things at once: I'll never get over the loss;I'm lighter by one less cross. And being this much more aloneI'll do as I've always done Two things in regard to my deadIn order to mourn and go on. I'll pat myself on the headFor all my good deeds done Before I hang it down,So heavy will it have grown, For all the good I didWas never or could be enough And I'll never again feel as youngOr as wanted and needed and blessed. [End Page 361] Jerl Surratt JERL SURRATT's poems have been published in the Dash Literary Journal, Kenyon Review, Literary Imagination, The New Republic and other periodicals. He lives in Hudson, NY, and is the recipient of the 2020 Tor House Prize for Poetry, judged by Marie Howe and sponsored by the Robinson Jeffers Foundation. Copyright © 2020 Jerl Surratt
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