Poem of the Day
1981
By Asiya Wadud
in a world the orange sun resets
in a world the orange sun resets
if you rub the back of your child
at bedtime
his wife will be happy
Work drives you like wind
between suburban houses, emptying cans.
You are invisible as air
Tonight I saw Dustin Hoffman
walking down Lexington Avenue.
He lives on 61st Street
I was warm on the quadrangle
Warm on the grass by the library steps
Eating my sandwich
I still liked anyothertime,
anyotherplace. which means most
of my life, but it was now,
As soon as I climb into the car
I fold my dark blanket
and close my eyes against it
She called the white ducks with a soft
Clucking of her tongue and they came to
Her busy hands for the hard corn she shelled.
I am in your living room when you are not thinking of me.
I crawl in your lap, like an amphibian
just recently awakened from the sea.
most people have absolutely the wrong idea of how to go about cutting a throat, the right way to do it on animals anatomically similar to humans such as dogs, sheep, veal calves and very young pigs—emphatically not on full-grown pigs
I am pleased to announce
Some of the things
That won’t concern me