The Widow’s Crayon Box, by Molly Peacock
Throughout Molly Peacock’s poem sequence, grief over the death of her spouse is considered through a marvellously metaphysical conceit: the kaleidoscope of coloured crayons pulled out of a Crayola box. These poems are gut-wrenching, funny, loving, and raunchy. They marry the vulgar stink of decaying human bodies with an almost Renaissance sonnetean rapture at the pain and joy of being still alive. Only the very best poets, I think, can unite these elements successfully. Melodic and memorable, lines like these have stayed with me, committed to memory as I mull them over.
“I read that bright colors brighten you up,”
you said to your friend when you lived alone.
Then I appeared. Now I’m living alone.
Mauvelous, bluetiful, tickle-me-pink,
atomic tangerine, electric lime.
I’m tan, I’m timberwolf – you ran out of time.
I whiff them all; I take you up in sock-stink. (p.8)
Or
The charcoal nothing-think of outer space
where lovethoughts go as I keep earthly pace. (p.10)
— Emily Osborne’s poetry, fiction and translations have been published in The Paris Review, Vallum, The Malahat Review and elsewhere. Her books include THE SKALDS (W. W. Norton, 2026/2027) and Safety Razor (Gordon Hill Press, 2023). Emily has a PhD in Old Norse Literature from the University of Cambridge.
You can read Emily Osborne's poem "On Sailing (Trans. from King Harald Sigurdsson)" in Issue 303 (Spring 2025). Order the issue now:
Order Issue 303 - Spring 2025 (Canadian Addresses)
Order Issue 303 - Spring 2025 (International Addresses)
