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Today's poem is by janan alexandra

Day 68
       

I declare it a day of pleasure.
My flag says, Play. Sing a little song.
Says, Travel along.

I wave my flag made of dirt
and snow-dipped trees. It softens
in the rain, new letters forming

to say, Free. Can you see it?
I pledge allegiance. I'm keeping a ledger,
precious measure, seeking daylight

for the world-dark brain, hoping
this might be the break between
grief & rage. Landing softly all night.

What is pleasurable? When the body
can lie on uncratered ground. Touching my own
feet. My love's warm hands like a spoon rest.

The roundness of the word spouse
and how it suggests sparrow and house,
all of which now have a home here.

What is sure to please? Havingahomehere.
Finding a bluish feather in the hushed
meadow. Gazing out the window.

To live each day without shrapnel
in the dictionary, in the air, with no
possibility of shrapnel in the calf, in the ear.

Call me naive, I won't care.
War backwards is raw. I repeat:
What is pleasurable?

There's no square but repair. No eye
no tooth. Hand on your heart. No nation
I declare but being together.

No bombing campaign. Try a songbird
campaign. Make way for the grass
-child and sea-child and child of rain.



Copyright © 2024 janan alexandra All rights reserved
from AGNI
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission

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