Poetry: Song of Grief X by Alex Webster

Every poem in its way is an incantation of reanimation, and Alex Webster’s: “No gunshot. No head wound. / No sound, but the moon— / Raw and shy.” Webster’s newest poem, “Song of Grief X”, piles visually like feathers tumbling to the bottom of the page, that we too may for a time forget gravity and her dark cousin death.


Song of Grief X

I dream of you again.
A purple sea, a row boat.

You are seated at the bow.
I am seated behind you.

You face the sea and the sea
Is still. I do not know if we are

Moving. I am not
The boy, the bird

On watch, but I am meant to be
Here. To arrive, somewhere—

Traceable as stars. Where you were once
Possible. Now,

You are covered in dark
Feathers. Nearly

Reachable. I want
To pet you. I want your head

Cawing back. Show the moon
Those blackberry

Eyes. Hurry, before I remember
Gravity. I want you

Slowly turning around. There’s nothing here
But me. And I am smiling. I am so

Happy to see you again. In this violet
World. No gunshot. No head wound.

No sound, but the moon—
Raw and shy. For a moment,

I am sure of everything.
The sea, the boat. Then—

An oily feather
At my feet.


Alex Webster

Alex Webster is a poet from Tulsa, Oklahoma. She holds an MFA in poetry from North Carolina State University and an MA in English from Missouri State.

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