This poem reminds us that so much about grief is in the fragments of memory and detail that a loved one leaves behind. Note the double meaning in the first line of “you fixed me” and “you fixed me/lunch.” What’s left after death? The “cream of mushroom soup,” the “English muffins” and the “blanket/on the floor.” The ending of this poem acutely captures the paradox of grief — the streak of joyful memories mixed with the blade of hindsight. Selected by Victoria Chang
Credit…Illustration by R.O. Blechman
[One afternoon you fixed me]
By Mark Bibbins
One afternoon you fixed me
lunch in your tiny apartment
cream of mushroom soup
from a can
and English muffins
As you set our bowls
on a blanket
on the floor because you didn’t
own a table
you put on
a bad British accent and said
We’re having crumpets
It was raining but there was
an abundance of light
coming somehow from a source
outside we couldn’t see
From here that light feels like
what music sounds like
just before the record skips
Victoria Chang is a poet whose fifth book of poems, “Obit” (Copper Canyon Press, 2020), was named a New York Times Notable Book and a Time Must-Read. Her book of nonfiction, “Dear Memory: Letters on Writing, Silence and Grief,” was published by Milkweed Editions in 2021. She lives in Los Angeles and teaches in Antioch University’s M.F.A. program. Mark Bibbins is an American poet whose latest collection is “13th Balloon” (Copper Canyon Press, 2020), from which this poem is taken.