Happy Wednesday, blog readers! Around here, Wednesdays mean featuring new poems for you to discover. All of these poems come from Poetry Daily, which is a great resource if you’re looking for new poetry to read, or if you just want to read some new poetry every day. This week we’re featuring Death Gets into the Suburbs by Michelle Boisseau.
According to her bio page, Michelle Boisseau has written several books of poetry, including A Sunday in God-Years (2009), Trembling Air (2003), and a university textbook entitled Writing Poems. Trembling Air was a PEN USA finalist. She has received two fellowships from the National Endowment for the Arts. She teaches in the MFA program at the University of Missouri-Kansas City where she is Senior Editor of BkMk Press and Contributing Editor of New Letters.
Death Gets into the Suburbs by Michelle Boisseau
It sweats into the tongue and groove
of redwood decks with a Tahoe view.
It slides under the truck where some knuckles
are getting banged up on a stuck nut.
It whirls in the egg whites. Among blacks
and whites spread evenly. Inside the chicken
factory, the Falcon 7X, and under the bridge.
There’s death by taxi, by blood clot, by slippery rug.
Death by oops and flood, by drone and gun.
Death with honor derides death without.
Realpolitik and off-shore accounts
are erased like a thumb drive lost in a fire.
And the friendly crow sets out walnuts to pop under tires.
So let’s walk the ruins, let’s walk along the ocean
and listen to death’s undying devotion.
I hope you enjoyed this week’s featured poem! For more posts like this, click here.
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