The speaker describes a bedroom where his father died. A jessamine bush outside sways in the rain, but inside the room is frozen around loss. The father’s bed remains unmade and unslept in since the morning he woke and died. The speaker cannot enter without feeling that something large and furious is waiting for him there—something that wants to throw him onto the bed and choke him. The poem uses that image to make grief feel physical and threatening, not just sad. The repeated image of the jessamine rocking its golden flowers in the rain creates a quiet, almost gentle outer world that contrasts sharply with the dread inside the room. The overall mood is heavy, haunted, and tense, as if the memory of his father’s death has become a presence the speaker cannot escape.
Bedroom — Summary
The clump of jessamine Softly beneath the rain Rocks its golden flowers.
In this room my father died: His bed is in the corner. No one has slept in it Since the morning when he wakened To meet death's hands at his heart. I cannot go to this room, Without feeling something big and angry Waiting for me To throw me on the bed, And press its thumbs in my throat.
The clump of jessamine Without, beneath the rain, Rocks its golden flowers.