Today's poem is by Jennifer Militello
Answering Fear as if It Were a Question
In a unit of time, in a violence of sleep,
I first saw all the tiny murders in rain,
all the wartime verses: rain leading childreninto the classroom of looking, into
the being afraid. Rain chipping its way
into the apple trees, into the mouths of rivers.Stop, says the hypnosis. I cannot stop.
I've been thinking slivers of loneliness into
a handsewn shroud, thinking my toy heartto ticking. Lying in bed at night, rain's
lonely sopranos open in the palm like swimmers,
a mere lisp of dried flowers in the wind.All the verbs are ceaseless dioramas
of its wounds. Last night, the raindrops
opened where I felt my mouth, intoflesh-electric briars that said, breathe in.
This dark bulb being born is your sight.
Let it trample you beyond all recognition.Last night, I dreamed for the first time since.
I dreamed in concrete. I dreamed in wool.
I must have slept for years.
Copyright © 2005 Jennifer Militello All rights reserved
from The Laurel Review
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission
Support Verse Daily
Sponsor Verse
Daily!
Home
Archives
Web Monthly Features
About Verse Daily
FAQs
Submit to Verse Daily
Publications Noted & Received
Copyright © 2002, 2003, 2004, 2005 Verse Daily
All Rights Reserved