Poem of the Day
Study of Children
By Asha Futterman
did you know
that you all work for me?
I asked them as a joke
did you know
that you all work for me?
I asked them as a joke
When he slide it in the slot and press
the buttons in their order, wait,
he’s empire-building. Damn straight.
He rode “no hands,” speeding
headlong down the hill near
our house, his arms extended,
My mother confuses Topeka with Toledo.
My father confuses me with my mother.
Spain didn’t conquer Kansas,
The windows around Gramercy have eyes.
We look, they look back.
A brook cut through the swamp.
1.
hyperarticulated giant black ants endlessly boiling out of a heaped-up hole
in the sand
To spectate
is a verb
that does not
Sometimes you wait a while for the bus—
the bus of happiness
probably—just now passing the fried pie hutch
She was older, sleek, and had a bite to her, but I was bolder with my knees on either side of her.
She’s given up sex.
She’s given up travel.
She’s given up the rush
The coat of Italian red eyes me. Wool
Unraveling from abuse,
Creased and spent at the armpits.