Poem of the Day
Study of Children
By Asha Futterman
did you know
that you all work for me?
I asked them as a joke
did you know
that you all work for me?
I asked them as a joke
The newborn bear has no shape.
The mule rarely gives birth,
The viper only once.
And this shall be divided. For her
a tine to clip the bloody twine
that bound our meat, tine to pierce
Thirty drops in a warm tumbler of lemonade
flood, for now, a cavern the Speedwell ripped open.
Three nights his dreams glisten with constellations.
A friend of mine, Claude Larkin, was taken into custody
yesterday and was being held on suspicion, suspicion of what
I don’t know. Claude was probably the most upright citizen
We have been asked to report to the police any suspicious
behavior we might observe. Well, I observe suspicious behavior
all the time. Yesterday, there was a man in a dress picking up
I’ve heard a great deal about the new mall, but I haven’t
actually been there. It is full of palm trees and fountains. It
even has a waterfall. And there’s a bamboo forest with real pandas
When I came out of my study, Ginny was standing there with
wet hair. “Are you going to town today?” she asked me. “I wasn’t
planning on it,” I said. “Oh, never mind,” she said. “What is it?”
Winter, with each woolly breath, I lie.
I have been unfaithful. Wearing next to nothing,
His new heaviness he inhabits
all the way to the fingertips,
as if lunch were a rehearsal
Night fell on the rain, rain fell on the dark,
indifferently. Clouds hooded the moon.
A heart-shaped leaf shook under the weight