Today's poem is by John A. Nieves
Daily
I know it is mythologically wrong,
but, in my eyes, the sun always rises
over the water and sets behindthe hills. Sometimes the hills are buildings,
but the water is always water, even
when it is land. Something wavers at the openingbut closes with an almost audible thud.
Night happens in the black
part of a firethe little spot that has offered upall its light but not its heat, and morning
is the cold, rigid face of a coin, shining
in spite of all those dirty thumbs.
Tweet
Copyright © 2012 John A. Nieves All rights reserved
from the Southern Review
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission
Home Web Weekly Features Archives About Verse Daily FAQs Submit to Verse Daily
Copyright © 2002-2012 Verse Daily All Rights Reserved