Poem of the Day
1981
By Asiya Wadud
in a world the orange sun resets
in a world the orange sun resets
On this day, anno 1966
The thin Scandinavian girl whose fine-nosed
white collie sniffs along the shaded walk.
Life is beautiful. However
The only truly human, American expressions
of its staggering rich moments
United at first
ham and cheese fall apart and slip
through my trembling hands
As soon as I climb into the car
I fold my dark blanket
and close my eyes against it
Some men say I've forgotten why I sing,
as if I were a happy, careless thing.
But just my speechless body stayed behind—
In the night, when the newspaper’s
proofreader died
he died without reading the proof.
Nothing is left but the pyramids.
How heavy the stones of the pyramids are!
I cannot tell you when, where
in what city or time
I saw this crime.
You will not discover in my dying body’s kidneys’ yield, who.
All your theory of that and the other is false. Nor is any
woman simple. We encompass men before they’re birthed
I see New Englandly, and the miles gauged in the end are my own
Thousand footsteps measured warily around the sinking neck
Of my father’s hill beneath my crisp worn dress that hangs,