Poem of the Day
1981
By Asiya Wadud
in a world the orange sun resets
in a world the orange sun resets
The air did not crack in two.
There were no halves, only wholes.
We were surrounded, the trees leaned
On cold days
it is easy to be reasonable,
to button the mouth against kisses,
When you vanish up the staircase
Of the octaves
I know there is a window
In order to describe the appropriate action or conduct for any eventuality, we must first codify all eventualities. This is not so much forecasting the future, as it is prescribing all extrapolations of human capabilities; it is thus a concern with, not time, but exigencies extant in inner resources.
Intolerable pain in my right leg
resisted all simple treatments
analgesics narcotics blocked nerves
I enter a room where a fan seems to be chanting
“Air! Air! Air!” as it whirrs. I see it's not
the fan, after all, but a child facing the wall
I won't pretend I haven't ever cried;
that would be rather foolish under the circumstances;
I have been myself at times astonished
You were twenty-eight this past week—all of you. One would think you'd be twenty-eight part by part-the way the sun rises over a landscape—instead of all at once.
I understand:
for years, perhaps, you have lived
underground. Handling only
After midnight, lying in bed thinking of you,
I heard a squeal, and let the cigarette fall
From my fingers like a petal, as I watched the window open