Poem of the Day
1981
By Asiya Wadud
in a world the orange sun resets
in a world the orange sun resets
The year of the hurricane
(we are speaking)
bay roadway
This is what comes of a Lammas Eve, tho I did not think of that at all this
year until I had awakend at two in the night with the lines “My mother
would be a falconress.
The margin of mountain grass moved from our feet
down
the apron of
skirt torn
high
from fighting
Places take you by surprise
you walk past them
The darkness rings.
the surface from
of the face, a halo
My stepfather stood on the corner
by the national bank, quiet
The doorbell so
Lost
in the wall, the telephone
You think of everything:
Modem silence, where I go back continually
To you, as does everyone, it seems…
Peace out on the land—even if it’s
Halloween, and the spirits out
walking on the land, kids