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“The Last of the Brooding Miserables,” by Mary Karr

September 12, 2011

Today’s poem studies each death hard.

No, this isn’t a 9-11 memorial poem.  I read it early yesterday morning, though, and as the day went on (church, football, flags, ads), it remained the most satisfying remembrance I experienced.  Mary Karr earns that thanks at the end. At least, I believe she knows well enough what it is she’s thankful for.

Today’s poem is part of Mary Karr’s book, Viper Rum (Penguin, 2001). More than a year ago, I posted several other poems of hers here on the Feed.

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