After reading Anna Journey’s excellent essay in the current issue of Diode Poetry, I happened across this poem by Catherine Pierce. It will knock the wind out of you one line at a time. The first two sentences of the poem alone made me sit up straight in my seat and start reading the rest of the poem out loud: “Want is ten thousand blue feathers falling / all around me, and me unable to stomach / that I might catch five but never ten thousand. / So I drop my hands to my sides and wait / to be buried.”
If you do anything else today, that “else” must include reading Catherine Pierce’s poem.