Poem of the Day
Consecutive Preterite
By Jessica Laser
That summer I learned Biblical Hebrew / with Christian women heaving themselves / toward ministry one brick building at a time.
That summer I learned Biblical Hebrew / with Christian women heaving themselves / toward ministry one brick building at a time.
They say that when a goose flies south it holds a twig in its beak to keep from making a sound the hunters might hear.
I had an accident but lived in elegance
on methamphetamines and small stacks
of Black Beauty paperbacks
I wonder if Agnes meant that innocent love is the kind of love that is within us.
We dug a hole and dropped the bird in, along with a few flowers we had plucked. We didn’t touch the bird with our bare hands, in case death was contagious.
relentless pressure has been placed
on the page. I paid someone to care for them so I
could pattern these vowels and one
is eight and asking me each
night to read what I’ve made
in what they call my office
Thank you for shelter, the blanket of morning. Of this morning. When first frost found naked earth, or when you found that one shade tree in the desert of last summer. Sun like a knife blade, now the reluctant release of pain, those precious moments when it goes away. Do you still remember having such moments?
Wouldn’t you say that the locksmiths come back from fishing for whales
their hands full
and their looks ecstatic
It’s Thursday and you are alive,
you are at a sidewalk café
anywhere in the world:
the sun setting, the tiled roofs,
everything vibrant in the heat.
He’s not what you expected
As you might have expected.
Unkempt. Eyes bright but restrained.
Clothes damp from the steady rain
We make pilgrimages, we pay tribute,
as its backward-glancing heroine
is a painter’s tribute to a poet’s stanzas.