The poem opens with a shocking image: someone putting his own gun in his mouth. The speaker doesn't say who "he" is, but the title, "Grieving process," suggests the speaker is mourning a person who died this way. The phrase "a dinner of absence" is strange and chilling. It turns the act into a kind of meal, where what gets swallowed is nothing at all.
Then the poem shifts to something small and calm. The speaker arranges their books in perfect order and "do[es] not find any reason / to think." The tidiness reads like a way of holding on while everything else makes no sense. The last line breaks off, as if thinking itself has stopped, or as if thinking is too dangerous to start.
The mood is numb and tightly controlled. The speaker never says "I'm sad," and that restraint makes the grief feel heavier. The poem suggests that sometimes mourning looks like quiet, ordinary tasks done to avoid the questions that have no answers.