Quiet Death

Mother, if you really want to know,
Yes. I wanted to die for her.
I wanted to lay down
in the middle of
Springfield Avenue
and die for her.

She is the death I don’t like
talking about.
The one that I survived.
The one that I came crawling
out of, fingernails bent back.
The one that bagged my groceries
and didn’t look at me
the right way.

I play shadow puppets with her memory;
drink champagne until
I’m tender.

Mother, her—her
absence was the most
beautiful thing I’ve ever
suffered for,
ache like a
purple gown that trailed
behind me when I walked.

I was glowing, mother.
I was the most elegant
loneliness, the most exquisite
creature among all of the
unloved.

By Caitlyn Siehl

Biography:

Caitlyn Siehl is a poet from New Jersey. Currently finishing her senior year of college, she is going on to receive her Master’s degree in Communication at Rutgers University. She has published one book of poetry entitled What We Buried and has co-edited two poetry collections entitled Literary Sexts Volume 1 and Literary Sexts Volume II, all through Words Dance Publishing. She enjoys spicy Jalapeno chips and being surrounded by dogs at all times.