Nayika at the crawfish boil

Kiran Bathca. 2021 (modern century)Along the butcher paper you’re spread. Licking your fingers. Cracking spines(dainty little things). Still, you know to shuck all their meat. Be as Southernand slack as he saw fit. And you kept spreading. Your smiles. Your rumor.Your circles of darlings, looped & braided your hair. Late skin atmosphere.Wet from the heat. New timbres and eves. You loved the hilly tongues of Carolinas.The ooze of Baton Rouge. You told jokes in shotgun kitchens. Basked in the GardenDistrict. Cocktails under Columns. Humming yourself drunk: like a Louisiana fairytale.You debuted so well. Sent boys chirping. City bright & blushing. Blue ghosts circlingyour show and tell cottage. There you hung dead flowers. Fanned and soaked for hours.Bronzed legs, the perfect sundress. Oh Nayika! you even served Creole for his guests.Bottles and biscuits, king cake and juleps. But darling, what of it? You spread yourself rich.Held every court of his. Heard of hidden women. Swore you were different. Roaring felinelaughter. You’ll plead with him after. For now, set down the flute. Panting to the Bayou,pride staggered, dress lifted. Face in the river. You’ll listen under pressure:God dammit! God eager! Takes lightning strikes to please. His wanton demands.Forget the title Nayika, chosen means damned. Undo the coronet braids, rein backwhat you can. All you’ve mistaken: Territory for home, throat for song, throws for jewels.Your type is the wretched. You won’t be defeated. You’ll reap what you choose.  Faustian bargain. Spiders in your garden. Pulling your ribbons tighter. You say prizedtrumps beloved. So long as you’re coveted. You’ll weather the storm and all that good brew:The spines that crack. The bolts that bruise. Rumors coming back to you.

Oldest Poem

"The researchers in Ireland looked at their computer screen, marveling at a medieval book tracked down in a Roman library."https://apnews.com/article/old-english-manuscript-poetry-bede-caedmon-hymn-latin-italy-106769c014901cf06d8a56839d56ac90?utm_source=join1440&utm_medium=email&utm_placement=newsletter&user_id=66c4c92f5d78644b3ac5d5b4

NATIONAL LIMERICK DAY

"Observed annually on May 12th, National Limerick Day celebrates the birthday of English artist, illustrator, author, and poet Edward Lear (May 12, 1812 – Jan. 29, 1888)."https://nationaldaycalendar.com/celebrations/national-limerick-day-may-12

NATIONAL GREAT POETRY READING DAY

"At the tail end of National Poetry Month, April 28th marks the observance of National Great Poetry Reading Day."https://nationaldaycalendar.com/celebrations/national-great-poetry-reading-day-april-28

Cynthia Wanders My Neighborhood

Thomas Centolella

with the shock of hospice behind her  

and her ashes scattered on her cherished Pacific.   

She’s flipped the hourglass and stopped it at 29,   

when her hair was still chestnut and waving  

to her waist. And because it’s November and nighttime  

she’s wearing one of those vintage wool coats,  

wide lapels, no buttons or belt, a blue nearly gray  

in the foggy noir light of the streetlamps.   

It’s cold enough she has to hold it tight   

against her body. Too cold for the emerald   

silk teddy, or her long tanned legs in b-ball shorts,  

ready for some serious one-on-one. I’m dying   

to stop my steep climb home, turn around and ask her   

if she’s really here, but Orpheus is in my ear,  

warning me not to make that old mistake.  

It’s about trust, I think. Keep moving  

through the gloom of a spinned myth:  

let those you’ve loved come back   

when they’re ready, when you’re ready,   

as if no one were lost to begin with.

End of the Comedy

Louis Untermeyer

Eleven o’clock, 

and the curtain falls.

The cold wind tears the strands of illusion;

The delicate music is lost

In the blare of home-going crowds

And a midnight paper.

The night has grown martial;

It meets us with blows and disaster.

Even the stars have turned shrapnel,

Fixed in silent explosions.

And here at our door

The moonlight is laid

Like a drawn sword.

NATIONAL POEM IN YOUR POCKET DAY

"During National Poetry Month in April, National Poem in Your Pocket Day shares the way poetry brings joy by simply carrying one in your pocket."https://nationaldaycalendar.com/celebrations/national-poem-in-your-pocket-day-last-thursday-in-april