Grief and Moon Pies
Daniel Ford
I think grief given shape might look like a moon pie,
because it is an inescapable diminution of its namesake
and because I am surprised each time I bite into one
and it softly tears, since I expect it to be hard.
Dad, I am eating this moon pie because
even though I don’t like them they remind me
each time I see them that you did and that likely
you didn’t see one the last two years of your life.
And their sudden resurgence would’ve
delighted you, but the point here is
I don’t like marshmallow and am trying
to find a way to carry this grief to term,
if you will, to let it live outside of me
and I think it might look like a moon pie,
because, dad, grief and moon pies are both wholly
unsatisfying things that are inescapable
diminutions of their progenitors
and I want to be done with them now.
I want memory and snacks less easily torn
and not stale moon pies and grief.