{"id":128731,"date":"2018-08-23T09:00:55","date_gmt":"2018-08-23T13:00:55","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/?p=128731"},"modified":"2018-08-24T06:21:36","modified_gmt":"2018-08-24T10:21:36","slug":"poetry-rx-like-bread-in-a-stay-fresh-wrapper","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2018\/08\/23\/poetry-rx-like-bread-in-a-stay-fresh-wrapper\/","title":{"rendered":"Poetry Rx: Like Bread in a Stay-Fresh Wrapper"},"content":{"rendered":"

In our column\u00a0Poetry Rx<\/a>, readers\u00a0write in<\/a>\u00a0with a specific emotion, and our resident poets\u2014Sarah Kay, Kaveh Akbar, and Claire Schwartz\u2014take turns prescribing the perfect poems to match. This week,\u00a0Kaveh Akbar is on the line.<\/i><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a>

\u00a9 Ellis Rosen<\/p><\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n

Dear Poets,<\/em><\/p>\n

I was in an abusive relationship for several years, and two years ago today the man I\u2019d been involved with died by suicide. We had not been in touch for a long while before his death, but I\u2019m still not through dealing with all the damage from our relationship and completely unequipped to know how to grieve him. Is there a poem that might help me make more sense of an overwhelming amount of conflicting emotions?<\/em><\/p>\n

Sincerely,<\/em>
\nStill Not Over It<\/em><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Dear Still Not Over It,<\/p>\n

I thought a long time about which poem to prescribe you, and kept coming up against the reality that no poem would precisely correspond to your exact experience (unless you wrote it!), nor would any poem help you \u201cmake more sense\u201d of a situation that is aggressively hostile to sense\u2014a man claimed to love you but he hurt you, you freed yourself but he died and now you need to learn how to grieve him despite his abuse. It\u2019s profoundly irrational, which is to say, it\u2019s profoundly human and true.<\/p>\n

I give you Kevin Prufer\u2019s \u201cBlack Woods<\/a>.\u201d The poem ends:<\/p>\n

Listen to yourself.<\/em>\u00a0Did he step inside you?
\nListen to yourself.<\/em>\u00a0Is he trapped inside you?
\nLet go of me.<\/em>\u00a0Is it black woods in there?<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

It seems to me a poem deeply invested in exploring our inherently illogical response to grief. The chilling, unforgettable closing repetition of \u201cListen to yourself\u201d is, of course, what the griever can never do, not really, so overpowering is the noise of grief itself. The open, bracketed spaces remind me of Anne Carson\u2019s translations of Sappho\u2014here are moments too thundering for history to keep them, the silences not silences at all, but rather typographical concessions to the failure of a medium.<\/p>\n

This sounds like an excruciating situation, and I hope so much you have people in your life with whom you can speak about it. Prufer\u2019s poem offers a glimpse of the irrational heart of grief warring with the omnipresent pressure to conceal it, to move beyond it and once more conform to convention. I hope you find the freedom to argue, grapple, and grow with the grief you\u2019re experiencing.<\/p>\n

\u2014KA<\/p>\n

If you are having thoughts of suicide, call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1-800-273-8255 (TALK) or go to SpeakingOfSuicide.com\/resources for a list of additional resources.\u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n

*<\/p>\n

Dear Poets,<\/em><\/p>\n

I am in love with a man who will never love me back. This is not a story of unrequited love or him loving someone else. We\u2019ve been together ten months, but he has never loved anyone before and is convinced that he will never be able to match my feelings for him. Despite our differences in emotional attachment, he treats me better than any other man I have dated. My question is whether it is worth it to be in a relationship with someone who doesn\u2019t return your feelings. Do I really need love if I have respect?<\/em><\/p>\n

Sincerely,<\/em>
\nUnloved and okay.<\/em><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Dear Unloved and Okay,<\/p>\n

Yes, you absolutely do. And, I\u2019m not entirely convinced you even have respect\u2014someone who respected you wouldn\u2019t knowingly keep you in a relationship where the balance of affection is so out of whack, where the power dynamics are so skewed in his favor.<\/p>\n

For you, I offer Faiz Ahmed Faiz\u2019s \u201cBe Near Me<\/span><\/a>.\u201d It\u2019s a desperate poem where even the anklets clink with pain, where the \u201cwine being poured makes the sound \/ of inconsolable children.\u201d It ends:<\/p>\n

When whatever you want to do cannot be done,
\nWhen nothing is of any use;
\n\u2014At this hour when night comes down,
\nWhen night comes, dragging its long face,
\ndressed in mourning,
\nBe with me,
\nMy tormenter, my love, be near me.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

Everything is colored with the speaker\u2019s psychic pain, every good thing is made worse. Still, the speaker calls out for their \u201ctormentor,\u201d their \u201clove.\u201d<\/p>\n

Every day you spend in a relationship with someone who does not cherish you is a day defined by lack, a day dulled by the absence of passion. You deserve more.<\/p>\n

\u2014KA<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

*<\/p>\n

Dear Poets,<\/em><\/p>\n

I have a medical condition that causes frequent involuntary movements, so I find myself constantly seeking stillness. Even when I escape from the sounds and constant movement of the world, I can never escape from the part of my brain whose dysfunction seems to thrive on interrupting my peace. I am constantly trying to come to terms with the understanding that this condition is a part of my life and that treatment is limited and so I must deal with it, but I’m not always sure how. Do you have a poem for someone who loves peace and quiet and yet is their own biggest obstacle in achieving it?<\/em><\/p>\n

Sincerely,<\/em>
\nInterrupting Myself<\/em><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Dear Interrupting Myself,<\/p>\n

So much of poetry is stillness, so much of our manipulation of language is really a way to give texture to the stillness beneath it. Increasingly, I have been thinking about my own poetry as a way to throw a language blanket over the invisible-but-everywhere-present silences around me in order to see their contours, their motion.<\/p>\n

Today, I give you Jane Yeh\u2019s \u201cA Short History of Silence<\/span><\/a>.\u201d Yeh builds a world where even the clocks, even the reflections in the mirror stay still. It opens:<\/p>\n

\n
In our house, all the clocks are turned off and the mirrors<\/div>\n
Don\u2019t work. We sit like bread in a stay-fresh wrapper,<\/div>\n
Keep ourselves to\u00a0our selves<\/em>. Sometimes the speeches<\/div>\n
Are so beautiful it hurts. On the porch where we can\u2019t be<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
Seen to smile, the honeysuckle meshes with silent<\/div>\n
Weeds. We rock back and forth, back and forth in our long<\/div>\n
Black dresses. Mosquitoes taste our blood and find it good.<\/div>\n<\/blockquote>\n

The denizens of the world \u201csit like bread in a stay-fresh wrapper.\u201d The most dynamic movement of the poem happens when the \u201cwe\u201d rocks \u201cback and forth\u201d in \u201clong \/ Black dresses.\u201d Besides that, it\u2019s just watching candles melt, horse-hair grow.<\/p>\n

For all its stillness, its silence, there is something decidedly unsettled about this poem. The rocking in the dresses seems self-soothing, like a distraught child rocking themselves in a corner. The mosquitoes crave the people\u2019s delicious blood, and beautiful speeches hurt (no wonder everyone is keeping silent!). The poem ends:<\/p>\n

We sleep in the same bed
\nLike good animals, braid our hair together, tailor
\nOur limbs to fit.\u00a0Conspiracy of wood.<\/em><\/p><\/blockquote>\n

The stillness here seems to signal an unspoken menace\u2014what\u2019s more still than wood? And what is it conspiring toward, in that final line?<\/p>\n

It\u2019s important to see that stillness can be intensely fraught, just as motion can be soothing. I\u2019m sorry you have to bear the condition you describe, and won\u2019t pretend to know what it\u2019s like. But if stillness isn\u2019t an option for you today, then my hope is that you will be able to find peace in movement, in a body that, like a lovable but clingy cat, constantly seeks to remind you of its presence.<\/p>\n

\u2014KA<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Want more? Read earlier\u00a0installments of\u00a0Poetry Rx<\/a>.\u00a0<\/i>Need a poem?\u00a0Write to us<\/a>! Next week, Sarah Kay will be answering questions.\u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n

Kaveh Akbar\u2019s poems have appeared recently in\u00a0<\/em>The\u00a0New<\/span>\u00a0Yorker<\/span>,<\/em>\u00a0Poetry,<\/em>\u00a0t<\/em>he<\/em>\u00a0New<\/span>\u00a0York Times,<\/em>\u00a0the\u00a0<\/em>Nation,\u00a0and elsewhere. His first book is\u00a0<\/em>Calling a Wolf a Wolf. Born in Tehran, Iran, he teaches at\u00a0Purdue<\/span>\u00a0University and in the low-residency M.F.A. programs at Randolph College and Warren Wilson.<\/em><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

In our column\u00a0Poetry Rx, readers\u00a0write in\u00a0with a specific emotion, and our resident poets\u2014Sarah Kay, Kaveh Akbar, and Claire Schwartz\u2014take turns prescribing the perfect poems to match. This week,\u00a0Kaveh Akbar is on the line.     Dear Poets, I was in an abusive relationship for several years, and two years ago today the man I\u2019d been […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1426,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[33114],"tags":[35141,57,35139,35137,35138,35140,2565],"class_list":["post-128731","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-poetry-rx","tag-a-short-history-of-silence","tag-advice","tag-be-near-me","tag-black-woods","tag-faiz-ahmed-faiz","tag-jane-yeh","tag-kevin-prufer"],"acf":[],"yoast_head":"\nPoetry Rx: Like Bread in a Stay-Fresh Wrapper by Kaveh Akbar<\/title>\n<meta name=\"description\" content=\"Poems for grief, unrequited love, and finding stillness.\" \/>\n<meta name=\"robots\" content=\"index, follow, max-snippet:-1, max-image-preview:large, max-video-preview:-1\" \/>\n<link rel=\"canonical\" href=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2018\/08\/23\/poetry-rx-like-bread-in-a-stay-fresh-wrapper\/\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:locale\" content=\"en_US\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:type\" content=\"article\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:title\" content=\"Poetry Rx: Like Bread in a Stay-Fresh Wrapper by Kaveh Akbar\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:description\" content=\"August 23, 2018 \u2013 In our column\u00a0Poetry Rx, readers\u00a0write in\u00a0with a specific emotion, and our resident poets\u2014Sarah Kay, Kaveh Akbar, and Claire Schwartz\u2014take turns\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:url\" content=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2018\/08\/23\/poetry-rx-like-bread-in-a-stay-fresh-wrapper\/\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:site_name\" content=\"The Paris Review\" \/>\n<meta property=\"article:publisher\" content=\"https:\/\/www.facebook.com\/parisreview\/\" \/>\n<meta property=\"article:published_time\" content=\"2018-08-23T13:00:55+00:00\" \/>\n<meta property=\"article:modified_time\" content=\"2018-08-24T10:21:36+00:00\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:image\" content=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2018\/08\/poetry_rx_2-1024x493-1.jpg\" \/>\n\t<meta property=\"og:image:width\" content=\"1024\" \/>\n\t<meta property=\"og:image:height\" content=\"493\" \/>\n\t<meta property=\"og:image:type\" content=\"image\/jpeg\" \/>\n<meta name=\"author\" content=\"Kaveh Akbar\" \/>\n<meta name=\"twitter:card\" content=\"summary_large_image\" \/>\n<meta name=\"twitter:creator\" content=\"@parisreview\" \/>\n<meta name=\"twitter:site\" content=\"@parisreview\" \/>\n<meta name=\"twitter:label1\" content=\"Written by\" \/>\n\t<meta name=\"twitter:data1\" content=\"Kaveh Akbar\" \/>\n\t<meta name=\"twitter:label2\" content=\"Est. reading time\" \/>\n\t<meta name=\"twitter:data2\" content=\"7 minutes\" \/>\n<script type=\"application\/ld+json\" class=\"yoast-schema-graph\">{\"@context\":\"https:\/\/schema.org\",\"@graph\":[{\"@type\":\"Article\",\"@id\":\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2018\/08\/23\/poetry-rx-like-bread-in-a-stay-fresh-wrapper\/#article\",\"isPartOf\":{\"@id\":\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2018\/08\/23\/poetry-rx-like-bread-in-a-stay-fresh-wrapper\/\"},\"author\":{\"name\":\"Kaveh Akbar\",\"@id\":\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/#\/schema\/person\/ebb494db2b2505d720b25dcc7efcad4f\"},\"headline\":\"Poetry Rx: Like Bread in a Stay-Fresh Wrapper\",\"datePublished\":\"2018-08-23T13:00:55+00:00\",\"dateModified\":\"2018-08-24T10:21:36+00:00\",\"mainEntityOfPage\":{\"@id\":\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2018\/08\/23\/poetry-rx-like-bread-in-a-stay-fresh-wrapper\/\"},\"wordCount\":1332,\"publisher\":{\"@id\":\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/#organization\"},\"image\":{\"@id\":\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2018\/08\/23\/poetry-rx-like-bread-in-a-stay-fresh-wrapper\/#primaryimage\"},\"thumbnailUrl\":\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2018\/08\/poetry_rx_2-1024x493-1.jpg\",\"keywords\":[\"A Short History of Silence\",\"advice\",\"Be Near Me\",\"Black Woods\",\"Faiz Ahmed Faiz\",\"Jane Yeh\",\"Kevin Prufer\"],\"articleSection\":[\"Poetry Rx\"],\"inLanguage\":\"en-US\"},{\"@type\":\"WebPage\",\"@id\":\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2018\/08\/23\/poetry-rx-like-bread-in-a-stay-fresh-wrapper\/\",\"url\":\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2018\/08\/23\/poetry-rx-like-bread-in-a-stay-fresh-wrapper\/\",\"name\":\"Poetry Rx: Like Bread in a Stay-Fresh Wrapper by Kaveh Akbar\",\"isPartOf\":{\"@id\":\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/#website\"},\"primaryImageOfPage\":{\"@id\":\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2018\/08\/23\/poetry-rx-like-bread-in-a-stay-fresh-wrapper\/#primaryimage\"},\"image\":{\"@id\":\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2018\/08\/23\/poetry-rx-like-bread-in-a-stay-fresh-wrapper\/#primaryimage\"},\"thumbnailUrl\":\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2018\/08\/poetry_rx_2-1024x493-1.jpg\",\"datePublished\":\"2018-08-23T13:00:55+00:00\",\"dateModified\":\"2018-08-24T10:21:36+00:00\",\"description\":\"Poems for grief, unrequited love, and finding stillness.\",\"breadcrumb\":{\"@id\":\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2018\/08\/23\/poetry-rx-like-bread-in-a-stay-fresh-wrapper\/#breadcrumb\"},\"inLanguage\":\"en-US\",\"potentialAction\":[{\"@type\":\"ReadAction\",\"target\":[\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2018\/08\/23\/poetry-rx-like-bread-in-a-stay-fresh-wrapper\/\"]}]},{\"@type\":\"ImageObject\",\"inLanguage\":\"en-US\",\"@id\":\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2018\/08\/23\/poetry-rx-like-bread-in-a-stay-fresh-wrapper\/#primaryimage\",\"url\":\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2018\/08\/poetry_rx_2-1024x493-1.jpg\",\"contentUrl\":\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2018\/08\/poetry_rx_2-1024x493-1.jpg\"},{\"@type\":\"BreadcrumbList\",\"@id\":\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2018\/08\/23\/poetry-rx-like-bread-in-a-stay-fresh-wrapper\/#breadcrumb\",\"itemListElement\":[{\"@type\":\"ListItem\",\"position\":1,\"name\":\"Home\",\"item\":\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/\"},{\"@type\":\"ListItem\",\"position\":2,\"name\":\"Poetry Rx: Like Bread in a Stay-Fresh Wrapper\"}]},{\"@type\":\"WebSite\",\"@id\":\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/#website\",\"url\":\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/\",\"name\":\"The Paris Review\",\"description\":\"The best prose, interviews, poetry, and art. Since 1953.\",\"publisher\":{\"@id\":\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/#organization\"},\"potentialAction\":[{\"@type\":\"SearchAction\",\"target\":{\"@type\":\"EntryPoint\",\"urlTemplate\":\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/?s={search_term_string}\"},\"query-input\":{\"@type\":\"PropertyValueSpecification\",\"valueRequired\":true,\"valueName\":\"search_term_string\"}}],\"inLanguage\":\"en-US\"},{\"@type\":\"Organization\",\"@id\":\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/#organization\",\"name\":\"The Paris Review\",\"url\":\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/\",\"logo\":{\"@type\":\"ImageObject\",\"inLanguage\":\"en-US\",\"@id\":\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/#\/schema\/logo\/image\/\",\"url\":\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/04\/tpr-hadada-roundell-logo-square.png\",\"contentUrl\":\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/04\/tpr-hadada-roundell-logo-square.png\",\"width\":696,\"height\":696,\"caption\":\"The Paris Review\"},\"image\":{\"@id\":\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/#\/schema\/logo\/image\/\"},\"sameAs\":[\"https:\/\/www.facebook.com\/parisreview\/\",\"https:\/\/x.com\/parisreview\",\"https:\/\/www.instagram.com\/parisreview\"]},{\"@type\":\"Person\",\"@id\":\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/#\/schema\/person\/ebb494db2b2505d720b25dcc7efcad4f\",\"name\":\"Kaveh Akbar\",\"image\":{\"@type\":\"ImageObject\",\"inLanguage\":\"en-US\",\"@id\":\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/#\/schema\/person\/image\/\",\"url\":\"https:\/\/secure.gravatar.com\/avatar\/3c54c6963a4e51b383226911bb97b24171c989699260c346530a54a744f3fd71?s=96&d=mm&r=g\",\"contentUrl\":\"https:\/\/secure.gravatar.com\/avatar\/3c54c6963a4e51b383226911bb97b24171c989699260c346530a54a744f3fd71?s=96&d=mm&r=g\",\"caption\":\"Kaveh Akbar\"},\"url\":\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/author\/kaveh\/\"}]}<\/script>\n<!-- \/ Yoast SEO Premium plugin. -->","yoast_head_json":{"title":"Poetry Rx: Like Bread in a Stay-Fresh Wrapper by Kaveh Akbar","description":"Poems for grief, unrequited love, and finding stillness.","robots":{"index":"index","follow":"follow","max-snippet":"max-snippet:-1","max-image-preview":"max-image-preview:large","max-video-preview":"max-video-preview:-1"},"canonical":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2018\/08\/23\/poetry-rx-like-bread-in-a-stay-fresh-wrapper\/","og_locale":"en_US","og_type":"article","og_title":"Poetry Rx: Like Bread in a Stay-Fresh Wrapper by Kaveh Akbar","og_description":"August 23, 2018 \u2013 In our column\u00a0Poetry Rx, readers\u00a0write in\u00a0with a specific emotion, and our resident poets\u2014Sarah Kay, Kaveh Akbar, and Claire Schwartz\u2014take turns","og_url":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2018\/08\/23\/poetry-rx-like-bread-in-a-stay-fresh-wrapper\/","og_site_name":"The Paris Review","article_publisher":"https:\/\/www.facebook.com\/parisreview\/","article_published_time":"2018-08-23T13:00:55+00:00","article_modified_time":"2018-08-24T10:21:36+00:00","og_image":[{"width":1024,"height":493,"url":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2018\/08\/poetry_rx_2-1024x493-1.jpg","type":"image\/jpeg"}],"author":"Kaveh Akbar","twitter_card":"summary_large_image","twitter_creator":"@parisreview","twitter_site":"@parisreview","twitter_misc":{"Written by":"Kaveh Akbar","Est. reading time":"7 minutes"},"schema":{"@context":"https:\/\/schema.org","@graph":[{"@type":"Article","@id":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2018\/08\/23\/poetry-rx-like-bread-in-a-stay-fresh-wrapper\/#article","isPartOf":{"@id":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2018\/08\/23\/poetry-rx-like-bread-in-a-stay-fresh-wrapper\/"},"author":{"name":"Kaveh Akbar","@id":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/#\/schema\/person\/ebb494db2b2505d720b25dcc7efcad4f"},"headline":"Poetry Rx: Like Bread in a Stay-Fresh Wrapper","datePublished":"2018-08-23T13:00:55+00:00","dateModified":"2018-08-24T10:21:36+00:00","mainEntityOfPage":{"@id":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2018\/08\/23\/poetry-rx-like-bread-in-a-stay-fresh-wrapper\/"},"wordCount":1332,"publisher":{"@id":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/#organization"},"image":{"@id":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2018\/08\/23\/poetry-rx-like-bread-in-a-stay-fresh-wrapper\/#primaryimage"},"thumbnailUrl":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2018\/08\/poetry_rx_2-1024x493-1.jpg","keywords":["A Short History of Silence","advice","Be Near Me","Black Woods","Faiz Ahmed Faiz","Jane Yeh","Kevin Prufer"],"articleSection":["Poetry Rx"],"inLanguage":"en-US"},{"@type":"WebPage","@id":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2018\/08\/23\/poetry-rx-like-bread-in-a-stay-fresh-wrapper\/","url":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2018\/08\/23\/poetry-rx-like-bread-in-a-stay-fresh-wrapper\/","name":"Poetry Rx: Like Bread in a Stay-Fresh Wrapper by Kaveh Akbar","isPartOf":{"@id":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/#website"},"primaryImageOfPage":{"@id":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2018\/08\/23\/poetry-rx-like-bread-in-a-stay-fresh-wrapper\/#primaryimage"},"image":{"@id":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2018\/08\/23\/poetry-rx-like-bread-in-a-stay-fresh-wrapper\/#primaryimage"},"thumbnailUrl":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2018\/08\/poetry_rx_2-1024x493-1.jpg","datePublished":"2018-08-23T13:00:55+00:00","dateModified":"2018-08-24T10:21:36+00:00","description":"Poems for grief, unrequited love, and finding stillness.","breadcrumb":{"@id":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2018\/08\/23\/poetry-rx-like-bread-in-a-stay-fresh-wrapper\/#breadcrumb"},"inLanguage":"en-US","potentialAction":[{"@type":"ReadAction","target":["https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2018\/08\/23\/poetry-rx-like-bread-in-a-stay-fresh-wrapper\/"]}]},{"@type":"ImageObject","inLanguage":"en-US","@id":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2018\/08\/23\/poetry-rx-like-bread-in-a-stay-fresh-wrapper\/#primaryimage","url":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2018\/08\/poetry_rx_2-1024x493-1.jpg","contentUrl":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2018\/08\/poetry_rx_2-1024x493-1.jpg"},{"@type":"BreadcrumbList","@id":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2018\/08\/23\/poetry-rx-like-bread-in-a-stay-fresh-wrapper\/#breadcrumb","itemListElement":[{"@type":"ListItem","position":1,"name":"Home","item":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/"},{"@type":"ListItem","position":2,"name":"Poetry Rx: Like Bread in a Stay-Fresh Wrapper"}]},{"@type":"WebSite","@id":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/#website","url":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/","name":"The Paris Review","description":"The best prose, interviews, poetry, and art. Since 1953.","publisher":{"@id":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/#organization"},"potentialAction":[{"@type":"SearchAction","target":{"@type":"EntryPoint","urlTemplate":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/?s={search_term_string}"},"query-input":{"@type":"PropertyValueSpecification","valueRequired":true,"valueName":"search_term_string"}}],"inLanguage":"en-US"},{"@type":"Organization","@id":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/#organization","name":"The Paris Review","url":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/","logo":{"@type":"ImageObject","inLanguage":"en-US","@id":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/#\/schema\/logo\/image\/","url":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/04\/tpr-hadada-roundell-logo-square.png","contentUrl":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/04\/tpr-hadada-roundell-logo-square.png","width":696,"height":696,"caption":"The Paris Review"},"image":{"@id":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/#\/schema\/logo\/image\/"},"sameAs":["https:\/\/www.facebook.com\/parisreview\/","https:\/\/x.com\/parisreview","https:\/\/www.instagram.com\/parisreview"]},{"@type":"Person","@id":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/#\/schema\/person\/ebb494db2b2505d720b25dcc7efcad4f","name":"Kaveh Akbar","image":{"@type":"ImageObject","inLanguage":"en-US","@id":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/#\/schema\/person\/image\/","url":"https:\/\/secure.gravatar.com\/avatar\/3c54c6963a4e51b383226911bb97b24171c989699260c346530a54a744f3fd71?s=96&d=mm&r=g","contentUrl":"https:\/\/secure.gravatar.com\/avatar\/3c54c6963a4e51b383226911bb97b24171c989699260c346530a54a744f3fd71?s=96&d=mm&r=g","caption":"Kaveh Akbar"},"url":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/author\/kaveh\/"}]}},"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/128731","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1426"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=128731"}],"version-history":[{"count":16,"href":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/128731\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":128795,"href":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/128731\/revisions\/128795"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=128731"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=128731"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=128731"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}