Today's poem is by Jenny Sadre-Orafai

We Can't Change the Orbits Quite Yet

We have long talks about
what color my blood really is,

how many hearts the octopus can
make breath and still swim with.

I think the Hudson is the river
and not the dog. I want the shoulder

and muscles, the muzzle to be a rounded
wave. We can make it make sense.

Here's the octopus, eight hearts
beating within each tentacle.

Here's my open finger
and my black blood.

Here's a man walking his pressed shirt
down the rainy street anyway.

Here's the muscle in his jaw moving
up and down, a seesaw.

Here's his shoulder pushing
out of your wave and into

a message from my mother
in pictures. She's past words

now and I hear every thing
she means. The sound

of a small plane in the suburban
sky is my father saying hello.

Copyright © 2017 Jenny Sadre-Orafai All rights reserved
from Malak
Platypus Press
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission

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