—after Robert Bly

After we’ve set the book down,

it’s all right if we only

remember the paper cuts.

It’s all right if Eliot stands under

a bare bulb for days

writing two lines.

We should thank our suffering—

Chopin coughed up blood

composing his last mazurka.

We come from an ancient family

of weepers—A certain grief

gave birth to us all.

A flash of agony stokes the coals

in the heart’s furnace. We burn

like the scrolls of Alexandria.

It’s OK to break down before

the poem is over. Everything we’ve lost

carries us on the wind.

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Alexander Etheridge has been developing his poems and translations since 1998. His poems have been featured in The Potomac Review, Museum of Americana, Ink Sac, Welter Journal, The Cafe Review, The Madrigal, Abridged Magazine, Susurrus Magazine, The Journal, Roi Faineant Press, and many others. He was the winner of the Struck Match Poetry Prize in 1999, and a finalist for the Kingdoms in the Wild Poetry Prize in 2022. He is the author of God Said Fire, and Snowfire and Home.