Poem of the Day
1981
By Asiya Wadud
in a world the orange sun resets
in a world the orange sun resets
One morning the stove decided not to cook.
The children were startled.
The stove had always cooked—
Yesterday in the locker room
a young man told his friend
how he did it to her
All of you no doubt have felt
the soft sleep, the sweetest dizziness
easing you down on the bed
Beautiful beyond belief
to look at you the whole way
would be to walk away maimed
Snow is irrational
and the rare song above the snow insane.
Every tree is a personality:
Could Darwin instruct those turtles? Pixilated pin-dick tax
taste—comforting mannikins
atmosphere, he also enjoys an occasional highball: wanna see my
Inaudible consonant inaudible vowel
The word continues to fall
in splendor around us
No, it isn’t the birds
covered with ash,
no, it isn’t the cries beating against the windows of the wedding,
Between the freeway
and the gray conning towers
of the ballpark, miles
In a filmy stench of slaughterhouse
I see the image of my body, half-naked,
ignored, almost dead. This is the way,