Today's poem is by Anaïs Duplan

The Flying Phalangers

You and I are filthy but it is
our filth. Look how quick the clouds
when you expect bad news. Here is
a telegram I have never received:
Please. Hold out hope. The best
is nowhere in sight. Why always enough
time for lonely but insufficient
time for full. My cup of tea held something
dead in it. The fly I named Henry
because it had that look. Remember
when the magpies muttered like toys
outside the cabin where we prayed
for no more rain, no more secret
wild animals. When you face the wolf
do not comment on the color of its eyes.
Do not waste time trying to find
beauty in all things. Reserve your awe
for mammals in flight.

Copyright © 2016 Anaïs Duplan All rights reserved
from Take This Stallion
Brooklyn Arts Press
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission

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