Demeter Mourning by Rita Dove
This was recommended by Heather and it’s right up my alley - depressing!
Demeter Mourning
By Rita Dove
Nothing can console me. You may bring silk
to make skin sigh, dispense yellow roses
in the manner of ripened dignitaries.
You can tell me repeatedly
I am unbearable (and I know this):
still, nothing turns the gold to corn,
nothing is sweet to the tooth crushing in.
I’ll not ask for the impossible;
one learns to walk by walking.
In time I’ll forget this empty brimming,
I may laugh again at
a bird, perhaps, chucking the nest—
but it will not be happiness,
for I have known that.
