Gothic Grief
written by: Karen Southall Watts
@askkaren
It’s not nearly so romantic and glamorous as it seems
in novels, or in old movies on late night TV,
this slow descent into madness.
Dreams of a dead lover or bouts of melancholia
are harder to explain during a coffee break than they would be
prone on a fainting couch in the front parlor.
And there are no candlelit corridors or
moonlit gardens to wander,
only a smelly stairway with the vestiges
of a neighbor’s attempt to fry fish.
It’s hard to explain.
You are numb from the heart down,
you don’t belong in the budget meeting,
but in a dressing gown, staring out the window,
and no, you cannot “just get over it.”
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