A few months ago, my friend Ashley turned me on to the excellent Pome newsletter, wherein Matthew Ogle shares one poem in your inbox every morning.
Early last week, Matthew shared summer, somewhere by Danez Smith, a poem that enveloped me with beauty and melancholy when I first discovered it a little over a year ago. I was glad to be reminded of that beautiful poem this week.
Today, as hail falls from the sky and the ground is covered in a sheet of ice, I thought it would be appropriate to share a few small excerpts from Danez Smith’s beautiful poem:
somewhere, a sun. below, boys brown
as rye play the dozens & ball, jump
in the air & stay there. boys become new
moons, gum-dark on all sides, beg bruise
-blue water to fly, at least tide, at least
spit back a father or two. I won’t get started.
history is what it is. it knows what it did. […]
yesterday, a poplar
told me of old forest
heavy with fruits I’d call uncle
bursting red pulp & set afire,
harvest of dark wind chimes.
after I fell from its limb
it kissed sap into my wound.
do you know what it’s like to live
someplace that loves you back? […]
if you press your ear to the dirt
you can hear it hum, not like it’s filled
with beetles & other low gods
but like a mouth rot with gospel
& other glories. listen to the dirt
crescendo a boy back.
come. celebrate. this
is everyday. every day
holy. everyday high
holiday. everyday new