Today's poem is by Jennifer Whalen

Even in Disguise
       

1.
Talk leans small over the balcony rails:
is this starlight member to some far-off nebula?
Tell me the longevity of any given swan.
I didn't belong there. Not that I didn't love
swans & stars & parties, I did; I do.
On twitchy summer days, I think there is a sun;
I could do something worthwhile
with my hands: gum wrappers born new
as tiny creased birds; party gifts to strangers
on streets. But this night was different
than that wanting. I wanted to fall in love
with a daffodil for its daffodilness; not
those fundamental facets that make it unlike
a daisy. Others thought this wishy-
washy, neither here nor there. Like an unfolded
then refolded paperclip, I was neither my former
love nor this newer, loppy self. But this
was a dinner party!—love was both in
& out of the question.

2.
When I plead to the bus
not to crash its broad side into mine,
I mean there are countless avenues. Impact
is merely one. I could forgive a frog its lonely
croaking, teach a sponge-scrub the inside corners
of an oven. It is better to believe
our nebulae into some good warning: the stuff
in the sky that makes dancing-nights
worth dancing; someone in our midst
who comes to learn my recipes, who longs
to love my loves.

Tweet

Copyright © 2024 Jennifer Whalen All rights reserved
from Eveningful
Lightscatter Press
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission