Second Poetry Assignment - Elegy

Our second poetry assignment was to write an elegy, or a poem of mourning. I immediately thought of my father. At the time of his death, I wrote a decent amount, but it was very much stream-of-consciousness (see "Life Out of Order" post), rather than concise, athletic writing.

I'm worried that this poem does too much telling, and not enough showing. Still, it's the first thoughtful piece ever written about my father's death, so at least a good start.

Fatherless daughters

by Stephanie McLellan

Astoria awoke in muffled light, and

Unfurled itself, unshuttering its shops,

Revealing glass cases full of watches, and

Walls patterned with five dollar t-shirts.

Its people stretched and yawned,

Showered and dressed, stepped out the door.

The N train snaked its way overhead,

Shuddering and squealing around each curve.

Commuters wore foundations of exhaustion,

Over which they painted lipstick, and somber faces,

Succumbing to the rocking lull of the train, their

Eyelids falling slack, then bursting open at a jarring jerk.

Their destination, a Manhattan station, throbbed with footsteps,

Anonymous bodies shoving and slipping past one another,

Turnstiles revolving and clicking at a furious pace.

Above ground, I mimicked the crowd, darting about,

Tapping out steps in my heels, faking my morning rush

Until I stumbled on the curb, scattering my thoughts.

That's when it happened. For one minute,

You were breathing again, moving again--alive.

Your calloused hands busied themselves,

Tuning your guitar, or maybe rolling the radio dial,

Settling on conservative radio. Or maybe, you were

Thinking of me, and how we haven't spoken for weeks.

But then I catch myself, and you're gone again.

Cruel memory stings me, pummels me, and wrenches away my breath,

Unleashing an ache that stems from my chest to my arms.

How awful is it, forgetting only to remember suddenly, as if

Hearing her monotone delivery of yesterday's news all over again?

The news I always forecasted but never expected.

I paused, struck by pedestrians and the sudden realization:

The world is filled with fatherless daughters.