Poems Rethabile Likes

After the Beginning by Linda Gregg | Poems Rethabile Likes After the Beginning by Linda Gregg The woman is preparing her body for sleep. She hangs the hair forward and it almost touches her feet. After brushing, she throws it up and back on to her shoulders. Then splashes water on her face twenty times. There is someone inside her happier than she is, waking as she goes to sleep. A child rolls a ball to where Death stands and waits for him to roll it back. But Death does not touch it. Death covers his face with his hands and turns away. The child runs after wanting to play. The wom...

Adolescence-II by Rita Dove | Poems Rethabile Likes Adolescence-II by Rita Dove Although it is night, I sit in the bathroom, waiting. Sweat prickles behind my knees, the baby-breasts are alert. Venetian blinds slice up the moon; the tiles quiver in pale strips. Then they come, the three seal men with eyes as round As dinner plates and eyelashes like sharpened tines. They bring the scent of licorice. One sits in the wash bowl, One on the bathtub edge; one leans against the door. "Can you feel it yet?" they whisper. I don't know what to say, again. They chuckle, Patting their sleek bodies with their hands. ...

Walking on Water by emet ezell | Poems Rethabile Likes Walking on Water by emet ezell first appeared at Split This Rock i bought her a shitty ass chicken sandwich. $18.59 and dripping with oil— my grandmother. she blessed the meal for ten minutes before taking a bite. poured out devotion like gasoline. like pepsi cola. we knew then that she was dying, but i lived in the first paragraph, unprepared. i should’ve taken my inheritance that afternoon: a flour tin and the old photographs. foolish, how i believed i could come back. how i thought there would be someplace to come back to. eviction and it...

A Small Needful Fact by Ross Gay | Poems Rethabile Likes A Small Needful Fact by Ross Gay Is that Eric Garner worked for some time for the Parks and Rec. Horticultural Department, which means, perhaps, that with his very large hands, perhaps, in all likelihood, he put gently into the earth some plants which, most likely, some of them, in all likelihood, continue to grow, continue to do what such plants do, like house and feed small and necessary creatures, like being pleasant to touch and smell, like converting sunlight into food, like making it easier for us to breathe. ...

A History of Mourning by Robert Bly | Poems Rethabile Likes A History of Mourning by Robert Bly It's odd that evening is so speckled with grief. Birds start singing when the branch reddens. But we write our poems when the sun goes down. Our ancestors knew how to cry at death; but they Had enough to do finding big stones to cover The dead, and begetting new souls to replace them. We slept on the limestone plains, and woke Night after night, tracing the route the dead take Through holes in limestone and on into the stars. Some hands outlined with blown powder On the walls of the cave have missing fingers. ...