Poem of the Day
Consecutive Preterite
By Jessica Laser
That summer I learned Biblical Hebrew / with Christian women heaving themselves / toward ministry one brick building at a time.
That summer I learned Biblical Hebrew / with Christian women heaving themselves / toward ministry one brick building at a time.
on the chair shining wet from the rain / still hung a black piece of laundry.
There’s a kind of transformation / That can happen on any day
Folded back through love / Trying not to be with but of
between the wardrobe and laundry rack / someone is ironing feathers and planets
but the cancer / is so available like so much isn’t—good air and tranquility, / space between sets of particles
That I should originate anything / was intolerable to me, / but I considered it, privately.
The man I loved wanted me in his bed, so I could tell him he was exceptional.
Ruining something felt like a reason to proceed.
the revolution needs a bigger space / so that the same tragedy cannot repeat itself
it was great to be a little sick with fear but / it’s better to be alive with a driver’s license