Mid-Term Break

While I was reading this poem at first I wasn't really sure who it was that had died and then maybe about halfway through I thought maybe it was his brother. I misread the last line four or five times and didn't get it. I thought it was A four foot box, a foot for every foot and I was thinking okay no duh a foot for every foot and then I read it again slower and realized what it was really saying. That was the worst realization I had. The poor little thing was only four years old. The seventh stanza was surprising. It's when you finally realize that the little boy was hit by a car. I thought it was a little strange though that it said :No gaudy scars, the bumper knocked him clear." Like it was lucky or something. Well you know he did die, but at least he doesn't look bad because the bumper saved his face. I understand that there is always optimism in every situation, but I really don't think that is what I would be thinking if I had seen my little brother for the first time in six weeks and he was lying in a casket. I thought it was a little shocking that the author calls it a corpse in the last line of the fifth stanza. I mean this is his little brother and maybe that is just a way for him to deal with the thought of losing him is to make him into an object instead of his four year old brother. I think this is one of the most powerful poems I have read. I really liked it a lot. I think it is fascinating and very interestingly written. The first stanza is apprehensive, the second is sorrowful, the third is happy, the fourth sympathetic, the fifth is angry, the sixth is calm almost or realizational, and the seventh is thankful. I think all the stanza are kind of going through all the stages of grief. I really like the way this author sets up the poem.

Goodbye to Sunk-noll

Goodbye to the monsters,
that hid in the dark.
In the side of the basement
I wasn't allowed. I must admit
that I wouldn't have gone anyway.
They blocked out the light and
waited for me.They knew I was
coming. I sprinted past,
but always to return for a swipe
at the lights cause the monsters
have never been worth the big fight.

Goodbye to the stair that froze me
in fear. All of them quiet but the fifth
from the top. It creaked and it folded
under the lightest of steps. It caught
me on Christmas sneaking down
just for a peek. It was my parents
while my parents were asleep.

Goodbye to the dark green. The leaves
of the tree I was unable to climb. The
tree that blocked my view of the world
on our quiet little street. From my room
I saw nothing but bees. Their life was that
tree. The bees that we caught each summer
with cups and old lids.

Goodbye to that well on the side of the
house. The one I got stuck in and no one
helped me out. I screamed at the spiders
that came outside to see the reason for all
the noise. I begged and pleaded my
brother and cousin to help me, but they
laughed and rolled and giggled nearly to
death. When my brother got stuck? I
laughed and giggled and rolled on the
ground and ran for my life when he finally
got out. 

Goodbye to those pickets of that old dark
brown fence. The ones with the pieces
broken out of their middles. Like the last
little piece of a puzzle that's missing. I was
the culprit. The breaker of pieces. Once
proud of my strength and my concoring
ways and now I am sorry. The pickets
have exacted their revenge for now some
of my pieces are missing.

Goodbye to the rivers we made every
summer. A hose quickly uncoiled as soon
as mom left and drug to the bottom to start
our play set. Our fingers were dirty and sore
from the thorns, but they worked excitedly
to finish the job. The sticks were our trees,
the pebbles our boulders. A combination
of soldiers, cowboys and indians, some
dolls stolen from their house. We
quickly recoiled when the car hit the
driveway but the next day made a new
chance for adventure when the coast
was clear for the devious digging.

Goodbye to those toys in my closet. The
ones I should have gotten rid of years ago,
but I couldn't bear to see them go. They
were my friends before I had Kelsey. They
liked my singing and laughed at my jokes.
The big fluffy beagle that's missing an eye
and the doll I colored on to make her look
"pretty". I guess I'll be the one that's gone
before they are taken away.

Goodbye to the child. The hands in the path
now covered by grass. The hands that
carved pumpkins and played in the mud.
The child who ran in the snow in shorts and
a tee. Who screamed to her friend before
she could cross the street. The one who
locked out her brother and dressed up the
dog. The child who couldn't wait to see the
world beyond that little house on Sunk-noll.
The world the tree had blocked for so long.

Goodbye to home.