#Poetry Wed: “The Survivor” by Primo Levi

“Since then, at an uncertain hour,
That agony returns:
And till my ghastly tale is told,
This heart within me burns.

Once more he sees his companion’s faces
Livid in the first faint light,
Grey with cement dust,
Nebulous in the mist,
Tinged with death in their uneasy sleep…”

Read the entire poem at LA Holocaust Museum.

​#Poetry Wed: “Empty Conclusion” by Elee Kraljii Gardiner & Andrew McEwan

“One bedroom. Hallway a bare river-land.
Maudlin complaints are noisy stones in this leafless valley.
The tongue scarcely registers flavour when mossed
by indoor living. In this glass-covered stasis I rest…”

Read the entire poem at The Capilano Review.​

#Poetry Wed: “Soil Horizon” by Tiana Clark

“My husband’s mother wanted to take the family portrait
at Carnton Plantation. I was the only person she called to ask
if it was okay. She said we could redeem the land with our picture
my brown skin acrostic to the row of their white. She said can’t we
just let the past be the past
. I was silent, my cell phone glowing
warm against my cheek. I was driving, red light—then go. She said
it’s practically in my backyard and that her boys played on buckled
fields of green graves growing up—there are so many fun places to shoot!
Oh and that big magnolia is in bloom—fragrant milky petals and waxy
greens by the red brick house, and the large front porch with rocking chairs
tipping back and forth above the purpled stains of Confederate blood. I
said it was fine as long as we weren’t by the slave cabins, and she laughed
and I laughed, which is to say—I wasn’t joking at all…”

Read the entire poem at Poets.org.

#Poetry Wed: “The Last Page” by Alan Michael Parker

“I have stopped reading the last page of novels—
now the horse drags the rider down the lane

and through the sugarcane field
to the impossibly brown sea

and that’s where they stop, just short.
Now the sun turns to look.

I have stopped believing what’s next…

…Oh, little bird, abide with me
before the stars go out,

before the handle turns,
before the floorboards creak awake…”

Read the entire poem at Copper Nickel.