A Theory of Grief

By KATE GASKIN

After she died
the crocuses bloomed

and the purple phlox.
The daffodils bloomed

and the snowdrops.
The star magnolias bloomed

and the forsythia.
The crab apples bloomed

and the redbuds.
The jewelweed bloomed

and the wild stonecrop.
The rue anemone bloomed

and the oxeye daisy.
The bindweed bloomed

and the blue-eyed grass.
The grape hyacinth bloomed

and the chickweed.
The purple deadnettle bloomed

and the tickseed and the bloodroot
and the spring air

was thawed ice
and crushed petals and powdered sex

and I walked through it slantly,
stutteringly, as if driven forth by

a nightmare, seeing everything
through the new prism

of the sudden and horrible
dream logic of my life.

 

 

[Purchase Issue 29 here.]

Kate Gaskin is the author of Forever War, winner of the Pamet River Prize. Her poems have appeared in The American Poetry Review, The Southern Review, and Ploughshares, among other journals. She has received support from the Sewanee Writers’ Conference and the Vermont Studio Center.

From the beginning, The Common has brought you transportive writing and exciting new voices. We are committed to supporting writers and maintaining free, unrestricted access to our website, but we can’t do it without you. Become an integral part of our global community of readers and writers by donating today. No amount is too small. Thank you!

A Theory of Grief

Related Posts

Cover of Willa Cather's O Pioneers!

What We’re Reading: August 2025

AIDAN COOPER
A duck paddling in a pond is a memorial to the passage of time; winter snow doesn’t represent death nor sleep, but rather life at its most ferocious. With Cather, the world is flush with a force so powerful it can’t be predicted or contracted or even known, only guessed at and trusted in. A magic rushes from every stream, from every hog’s bark.

Image of a tomato seedling

Talks with the Besieged: Documentary Poetry from Occupied Ukraine  

ALEX AVERBUCH
Russians are already in Starobilsk / what nonsense / Dmytrovka and Zhukivka – who is there? / half a hundred bears went past in the / direction of Oleksiivka / write more clearly / what’s the situation in Novoaidar? / the bridge by café Natalie got blown up / according to unconfirmed reports

A Tour of America

MORIEL ROTHMAN-ZECHER
This afternoon I am well, thank you. / Walking down Main Street in Danville, KY. / The heavy wind so sensuous. / Last night I fell- / ated four different men back in / Philadelphia season lush and slippery / with time and leaves. / Keep your eyes to yourself, yid. / As a kid, I pledged only to engage / in onanism on special holidays.