What Remains

[jdvanwijk]

Hello 71degrees,

I enjoyed your poem, I think you have an original concept here. My main problem is that for me the parts don't really mesh into a whole yet. The images from the other funerals don't seem to relate strongly to the main one of the narrator's father, to me they feel like stray observations. I'm curious to know what your intention was? Also I don't think the lack of full stops works. I don't feel it adds anything, for me the confusion it causes breaks the flow of reading.

All best!
Jan

In some regions of China,
a dead man’s reputation
is considered proportional
to the number of guests
who attend his funeral;
strippers are often hired
to pull crowds
In Madagascar, the dead
are often pulled from graves
and carried about, body danced
above attendees, but only once
every seven years
Stoney ground in Tibet
makes burial often impossible,
so the dead are often chopped,
mixed with flour and left
to be eaten by scavenging birds
In Wisconsin, my own father
is stored in cold porcelain;
at the funeral, I suppressed an urge
to pilfer some ashes for fear
of not knowing which body part
was being placed into my hand, or
being smudged beneath my fingerprints
Yesterday, I took his herring bone sport
coat down to a charity store; hopefully,
I gave it away to someone else’s father;
five years after his death, we continue
to misunderstand each other