Poem of the Day
My Library
By Mosab Abu Toha
My books remain on the shelves as I left them last year
but all the words have died.
My books remain on the shelves as I left them last year
but all the words have died.
I keep circling the Triborough Bridge
Hell’s Gate Bridge always with a line of freight cars
Randall’s Island, my sister in red and gold cheerleader clothes
my muse wears contact lenses,
maybe she’ll never see
past suburbia
look to the light
over there
here
Six days after I put the Audubon Bumper
on the truck I noticed the difference
and Annie sitting next to me
Guest night. Breath-taking games and—spending.
I play hand-rubbing host, you guest condescending.
Because I love and gladly serve this woman
must you call me degenerate and a fool?
She has something for the nicest taste
At the first sign of
weariness, there will be
a 15 minute rest stop.
A vast crowd, so many, rushed to the riverbank:
Women and men, famous greathearted heroes,
The life in their hero bodies now defunct,
Dawn at that hour
Brought on her kindly light for ill mankind.
Arousing men to labor and distress.
A soft, motiveless conversation that might never end
In a country of size, so beautiful days did not finger each ear.
Near one end grackles, the birds in armor,