Poem of the Day
1981
By Asiya Wadud
in a world the orange sun resets
in a world the orange sun resets
The light that is shining
over there is a traffic sign.
I returned the money I borrowed.
My bird is the cardinal,
one will sometimes come to me
or vanishing bluebird,
I wish somebody would give me
a couple of live panda bears.
After all these years I deserve them.
Psst. This is just for you, whoever you are, and not for any of the others. I am so excited by the possibility that you will be the one to read this that I cannot contain myself any longer. You will know who I am, won’t you, even though I deliberately make one or too common spelling errers so the others won't guess my identity?
They come in many sizes—small and faint, loud and
thunderous. And it’s a problem, what to do with them,
they won’t rise up to heaven where ears have the power
Although I keep a kleenex box in each room to wipe up cereal and apple juice, it’s not always easy to find one when I need it.
My kitchen is like New York State. Sprawled out and with divergent needs, it requires more than one kleenex box.
While asleep, a man gives birth to an idea of a woman. He wakes and finds it curled comfortably against him.
I hold no greater value
than the secret
Please believe I strive
What life
after the photograph
of the granddaughters
A woman speaks:
“I hear you were in San Francisco.
What did they tell you about me?”