Page 116

By Jack Joseph Smith

Dead Daughter I did not call the shots I walked out Again across the world, not around it A taste in your mouth A toe in Mexico As if thy own were every course,. I will never be able to say, I saw you bast,, through that away}, you have thought it to many times before,, intelligent, is what you want to remember See how clear you let it be,. certainily I am lost to bad weather. since she went away

Original Scan

AI Interpretation

GPT

"Dead Daughter" carries loss across the world rather than around it, leaving the speaker stranded between bad weather, memory, and the impossible task of saying he truly saw her last.

The page refuses the role of decision-maker, yet it cannot escape responsibility for walking out. Mexico, taste, and travel broaden grief into something migratory, as though sorrow has no fixed homeland. What remains most painful is not only her absence but the speaker's failure to secure a final, trustworthy sight of her before she went away.

Claude

'Dead Daughter' is a grief poem that disclaims authority over the loss: 'I did not call the shots / I walked out / Again across the world, / not around it.' Travel scatters the sorrow - 'A taste in your mouth / A toe in Mexico' - and the wound is the failure of a final sight: 'I will never be able to say, / I saw you bast.' Memory is told to 'See how clear you let it be', but the speaker admits defeat: 'certainily I am lost to bad weather. / since she went away.'