[Untitled]

By Dorothea Grossman 1937–2012 Dorothea Grossman

I don't own an exquisite way to move around in the night
                            —Doug Benezra

It occurs to me that,
when I die,
they might find the necklace
I dropped behind the bed
and wonder
how long it was there,
and whether I’d missed it.
But will they care
about my favorite color,
my long-range plans,
or my habit of searching myself
for signs of rust?

Source: Poetry (March 2010).

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This poem originally appeared in the March 2010 issue of Poetry magazine

March 2010
 Dorothea   Grossman

Biography

Dorothea "Dottie" Grossman lived in Los Angeles for over 30 years. Poetry magazine awared her its J. Howard and Barbara M. J. Wood Prize in 2010. Grossman wrote about her poems, “I like to think [they] are honest and that they connect me with my fellow mammals in a way that is both aesthetically pleasing and comforting. If they retain an air of mystery/humor, so much the better.” Allen Ginsberg once called her poetry, “clear, . . .

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Poem Categorization

SUBJECT Living, Death

POET’S REGION U.S., Western

Poetic Terms Free Verse

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Originally appeared in Poetry magazine.

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