Oh shoot. I wrote and posted a comment, but I think I deleted it instead 😳. My apologies if I didn't and this is repetitive 😁. Happy Stackaversary, Tara. You are a remarkable writer. I don't think I'll ever forget the thing I am always telling you, which was reading "Burn the Letters" and feeling like the top of my head just lifted off (in the best possible way). I'm looking forward to your prompt project 💛. See you on the other side of the election--hugs.
Tara, you were one of the first poets I discovered on Substack, even before I started my own Substack in late March. I look forward to your poems each week and this one is so lovely. I’ve had some of those relationships, friendships that have slipped away and never really understanding why. They leave a little hole in the heart.
Congratulations on one year, Tara! What an accomplishment of grit and creativity. 🎉
I'm so glad we discovered each other through February Poetry Adventure, and that I've been able to enjoy your thoughts and poems during and since. Here's to another year (and more) and perhaps a future poetry journal. 😉 And to taking care of yourself these next few weeks. ❤️
Congratulations, my friend! I’m sorry that you’re facing difficult times, but glad that you’re taking time to sort things out. This poem! Guess I should give the putting-it-in-a-box thing a try.
Love the blend of sadness and informality, Tara. Enjoy your quiet time away and I hope (from far away) things don’t get too uncivil. Congrats on your year of substack poetry.
I like the way the final “okay?” could be read two ways: as the vestigial tail of the once-live relationship in which you may still need to ameliorate anger by checking “if it’s okay with you”; or as a more sarcastic “okay, we’re so DONE”. Many other ways it could be interpreted, of course – even as a blankness.
Congrats on a year, Tara! 🎉 I'm so glad to have found your poetry here.
And I really love this line:
"like the ghost of
my fury, but shaped
like you, you know?"
Oh shoot. I wrote and posted a comment, but I think I deleted it instead 😳. My apologies if I didn't and this is repetitive 😁. Happy Stackaversary, Tara. You are a remarkable writer. I don't think I'll ever forget the thing I am always telling you, which was reading "Burn the Letters" and feeling like the top of my head just lifted off (in the best possible way). I'm looking forward to your prompt project 💛. See you on the other side of the election--hugs.
Tara, you were one of the first poets I discovered on Substack, even before I started my own Substack in late March. I look forward to your poems each week and this one is so lovely. I’ve had some of those relationships, friendships that have slipped away and never really understanding why. They leave a little hole in the heart.
Keep writing and see you soon! Glad you’re here!
Congratulations on one year, Tara! What an accomplishment of grit and creativity. 🎉
I'm so glad we discovered each other through February Poetry Adventure, and that I've been able to enjoy your thoughts and poems during and since. Here's to another year (and more) and perhaps a future poetry journal. 😉 And to taking care of yourself these next few weeks. ❤️
Congratulations, my friend! I’m sorry that you’re facing difficult times, but glad that you’re taking time to sort things out. This poem! Guess I should give the putting-it-in-a-box thing a try.
Love “the kind
of angry that leaves
a shadow behind,”
and maybe things will change. Be well.
Love the blend of sadness and informality, Tara. Enjoy your quiet time away and I hope (from far away) things don’t get too uncivil. Congrats on your year of substack poetry.
Congratulations, Tara! This is a beautiful poem which tells a resonant story of a relationship I've had and you've captured the mood just so.
Thank you.
I like the way the final “okay?” could be read two ways: as the vestigial tail of the once-live relationship in which you may still need to ameliorate anger by checking “if it’s okay with you”; or as a more sarcastic “okay, we’re so DONE”. Many other ways it could be interpreted, of course – even as a blankness.