Poem of the Day
1981
By Asiya Wadud
in a world the orange sun resets
in a world the orange sun resets
It howled like a person,
It howled when it stopped.
And the rest is taps, or reveille. Maybe
he lies with dog & god
The great blue heron’s tinctured swerve
fires its yellow bill with the trout's alloy.
Why in place of nature cure
The room was airless and damp,
the sheets a skin of sweat.
The greasy feather pillow
curled like a postage stamp.
First appear the tiniest islands, crumbs
brushed off the mainland, each
outlined in china white, as if by a child.
Once upon a time, began the old tale,
and that's how we knew it was a tale. Shackleton's
fare-thee-well voyage, ship marooned in ice
The blonde unlocks
her daddy’s Firebird,
blood-red as a tropical fish.
We’ve received the morning post;
Royal Mail has sent a roast:
Let the ten-pound package lie
Something isn’t right with me.
We climb in the hot July
car three thousand feet from Laramie
I thought (and before it was too late)
my heart had begun to turn, that was
shut to love, for I was adamant