Because it’s April and because April is National Poetry Month and because public libraries (mine included) are closing all around the country because of the pandemic, I’m going to try something different this month. A poem a day. Nothing by me.*
Because Rick Astley took up yesterday’s post, I will post two today – one now, one later on. Please enjoy.
Your name is not a song you will sing under your breath.
Your pronouns haven’t even been invented yet.
You’re going to shave your head
and drive through Texas.
You’re going kill your own god
so you can fall in love for the first time.
They’re going to tell youfrom Lord of the Butterflies by Andrea Gibson
your heartbeat is a preexisting condition.