On my bedside table – Reviewed
Naïli Cheballah
There’s an eaten apple on my bedside table.
I can’t tell how long it’ll stay there.
There are no books—I can’t swallow any words.
There’s a glass of water I won’t touch,
for your lips have been on it.
I can’t get that close to you anymore.
…
You may find the rest of the poem here.
On my bedside table
© by owner. provided at no charge for educational purposes
Analysis
“On My Bedside Table” is about absence and the way it lingers in the smallest, most ordinary things. The poem takes a simple setting—a bedside table, a glass of water, a bed—and turns it into a space filled with loss. The speaker is surrounded by objects that should be meaningless, but each one carries the weight of someone who is no longer there. Instead of moving forward, they seem stuck, unable or unwilling to change anything in the room, as if doing so would make the absence more permanent. The poem doesn’t just describe loneliness; it shows how it settles into a space, how it turns into something that can be seen, touched, and felt in every corner.
The structure of the poem is restrained, with short lines that deliver just enough information without over-explaining. This gives the sense of someone speaking in fragments, struggling to process their thoughts. The lack of a traditional stanza structure makes the poem feel raw, like a train of thought rather than something carefully organized. There is no excess, no unnecessary detail—only what is essential. The speaker does not directly say how they feel, but their grief is present in the way they describe the objects around them. The missing books suggest a loss of engagement with the outside world. The speaker says they “can’t swallow any words,” making it clear that they are not just uninterested in reading but actively unable to take anything in. The apple, left uneaten on the table, suggests time has lost meaning. It stays there, unnoticed, just like everything else in the room.
The glass of water is another quiet symbol of the absence that fills the space. The speaker won’t drink from it because it still carries the touch of the missing person. It remains where it is, just like the emotions the speaker refuses to face. The scent of this person still lingers, making their presence feel strong even when they are physically gone. But as much as they are still felt, their presence is fading. The dent in the bed, a physical reminder of where they used to be, is disappearing. The speaker refuses to move from their own spot, as if staying in place might keep things the way they were. But even that isn’t working. The past is slipping away, and all they can do is plead for it to stay.
The box of belongings beneath the mattress is the most direct representation of what has been left behind. It holds everything that is still here but no longer has a place. The speaker wonders why these objects continue to haunt them, as if blaming the person who left for the way their absence lingers. The idea of opening the box is not about finding closure—it is about trying to bring back what has been lost. The speaker hopes that doing so might “unleash the spirit” of the missing person, as if the room could be filled again with their presence. This suggests a deep unwillingness to let go, a hope that maybe, if the right steps are taken, absence is not as final as it seems.
The poem does not say whether the missing person left by choice, by death, or by something else. It does not need to. What matters is the weight of their absence and how it fills every object in the room. The speaker is trapped, unable to move forward but also unwilling to erase the traces that remain. The grief in the poem is not loud or dramatic; it is quiet, woven into the details of everyday life. It is in the way things are left untouched, in the way time seems to have stopped, in the way the past refuses to let go.
“On My Bedside Table” is about how absence takes up space, how grief attaches itself to the most ordinary things. It captures the feeling of standing in a room where someone has just left, where their presence still lingers even though they are gone. The poem does not offer closure because there is none. The speaker remains stuck, surrounded by reminders, caught between holding on and letting go.
Photo by Ochir-Erdene Oyunmedeg on Unsplash
