[John Riley]

A Slight Death

The little street was called Sycamore although
it was lined with old oaks, except for one tree at the end
of the street I couldn't name. I was sure my wife
knew what type of tree it was but I didn't ask her.
She sat in the passenger seat, looking for a church
where a few cars would be parked, a few cars
and a few people willing to go into the church.
I drove past an old building that may have once been a store
or even a small factory, but now it had been turned into a place
where people gathered to send away souls no one
believed were there. I had to turn around
in the driveway of a house newer than the others,
one that didn’t fit the neighborhood, a house
too fresh to say goodbye to, and drive back
to the small church where a few silent people waited
to hear a short sermon made faint by a slight grief.

[Simon Hunt]

Hi John--I really like some parts of this, but I have uncertainties about several places in it that make me think the poem could use tightening. It is, of course, possible that the problem is with me, not with the poem, but I offer my uncertainties in hope they may be of use or interest to you...

The most significant of these is the final line. Is it the sermon or of the people that is/are slightly faint? The people makes more sense, but syntactically it could be either. Either way, wouldn't "made only slightly" make more sense than "only slightly made"?

That one relates to the title. What's a slight death? Isn't an organism alive or dead--and isn't death, therefore, a total state? Slight grief makes sense to me, but slight death doesn't.

Why doesn't he ask his wife about the tree? This hints at intriguing possibilities in the marriage--like silences--but doesn't go far enough (or am I reading too far?). Is the loss more hers than his, so he doesn't bother her with details? Is her grief less slight than everybody else's?

"had been turned into"--why not just "was"?

NOBODY at the funeral believes in the soul?! That's plausible, I guess, if unlikely. But wouldn't it make their grief less slight--to imagine that death is absolute, rather than a prelude to reincarnation or reanimation at the right hand of blah blah blah?

I like the inclusion of the newish house, though.

Cheers,
--Simon

[Jan Iwaszkiewicz]

A realistic capture of a modern, two dimensional Twilight Zone.

I liked it John

[Trevor Conway]

Hey John,

Would you consider an experiment here: generally reversing the order of lines? I think it would lead to a more intriguing piece. I'll give an idea below, and see what you think. It may not suit what you want for the poem.

All the best,

Trev

To hear a short sermon made faint by a slight grief. [bold = delete]
A few silent people waited in the small church.
Too fresh to say goodbye to, this house,
that doesn’t fit the neighborhood,
I have to turn around and drive...

...The little street was called Sycamore.

[James Midgley]

Hi John,

I enjoyed this. It has your usual flair for subtle juxtaposition of ideas and images. Here we see worlds changing and disappearing before our eyes.

It all works well for me until the slightly weak line-ending 'place'. There might be a way to re-orient the breaks here to highlight the transformation rather than the place. I'm sure you've played with it already.

I liked the souls comment and well enough understood it as something like a dry overstatement.

I think you could lose 'a house / too fresh to say goodbye to'. I can't really make sense of it and I sense the poem lingers a little too long on the house.

The final line isn't quite working for me yet, and I wonder whether ending at 'silent people waited' might be sufficiently suggestive for this poem's conclusion.

Thanks for posting. Hope the comments are of use.

[Matt Q]

Hi John,

I could swear I'd read this, or a version of it, before. I particularly remember the Sycamore Street and the unnamed tree part, and liking the idea of a non-Sycamore on Sycamore street.

I enjoyed the poem. The somewhat desultory, detached, weary tone. The church that used to be a store. The N not enquiring about the tree. The few attendees at the funeral, who anyway do not believe in an afterlife, and whose grief is only slight.

I don't have much by way of nits. I agree with James that it could be worth looking at some of the line breaks. I wondered about this:

or even a small factory, but now it had been turned
into a place where people gathered to send away souls
no one believed were there. I had to turn around

it would emphasise the turning over the place, would emphasise the repetition of "turned"/"turn", assuming that's intended to be doing something. And there's maybe more impact/misdirection if the non-belief in souls is delayed to the next line.

to the small church where a few silent people waited
to hear a short sermon made faint by a slight grief.

I really like the close. I do wonder, though, if there's maybe one or two too many modifiers. My reading is that grief makes the sermon faint in the sense that they don't hear it as much -- its quieter maybe -- because their senses are clouded slightly by that grief (only slightly because it's only faint grief). I also wondered if "fainter" might work. That perhaps the sermon is already somewhat faint, given a celebrant/minister who is largely detached, unaffected.

best,

Matt

[John Riley]

Thanks to each for the help. I agree the ending needs work as well as the other suggestions. They’ll be a help during revision.

[David Callin]

Originally Posted by James Midgley

I think you could lose 'a house / too fresh to say goodbye to'. I can't really make sense of it and I sense the poem lingers a little too long on the house.

John, I think that's a good point. Other than that, I like it, and I think the close works really well. (I'm assuming this is a reworked version of the close I'm reading now.)

Cheers

David

[John Riley]

Thanks, John and David, I’m pleased it works for you.

I’m reconsidering that house.

[Greg Vander Veer]

John, This one really moved me. I read it several times but immediately felt it and completely understood it in the first reading. I felt like I was there. I know I've been there. The modern funeral in the dying town for people who don't go to church and are probably only there to be polite. Great poem. Thank you.