Grieving Isn’t Ironic

The visual arts have grown
More ironic as writers
Have avoided irony—

These things get booted around—
Irony, truth-to-power,
Beauty, honesty, romance,

L’art pour l’art—the arts take turns,
And what is revolution
But turning around again?

Plain folks want something pretty,
Something calming, uplifting,
Ennobling, of any art,

Something sympathetic or
Some adventurous escape.
Irony is for artists

And for those who like to talk
About art—and maybe those
Who enjoy solving puzzles.

Aha! I see how this works!
Hold still while I explain it.
Isn’t it ironic, then,

That although grieving isn’t
Ever, in its aching core
Of torn hollows, irony,

Irony itself’s a form
Of grieving, always has been?
An ironist is bereft,

Has been robbed of something loved—
Beauty, honesty, romance,
L’art pour l’art, revolution,

Sympathy, uplift, escape—
And can only compensate,
Ironically, in its place.