
This poem is from The White Museum.
Blank
When I came to my mother’s house
the day after she had died
it was already a museum of her
unfinished gestures. The mysteries
from the public library, due
in two weeks. The half-eaten square
of lasagna in the fridge.
The half-burned wreckage
of her last cigarette,
and one red swallow
of wine in a lipsticked
glass beside her chair.
Finally, a blue Bic
on a couple of downs
and acrosses left blank
in the Sunday crossword,
which actually had the audacity
to look a little smug
at having, for once, won.
- Matthew Zapruder and “The Story of a Poem” - October 15, 2026
- Poets and Poems: Mischa Willett and “The Gift Card Has Already Been Redeemed” - October 13, 2026
- When a Poem Completely Eludes You - October 8, 2026

Maureen Doallas says
Excellent poem. Wonderful details. I especially like the image of the house as “museum of her /unfinished gestures”.
I’m not familiar with Bilgere’s work but will plan to take a look at it. Thank you for spotlighting him.