“Tomorrow Night, Shake Me”

A weekly poem, read by the author.
May 7 2013 8:15 AM

“Tomorrow Night, Shake Me”

130503_POEM_TERRIWITEK

Photo by Cyriaco Lopes

Click the arrow on the audio player to hear Terri Witek read this poem. You can also download the recording or subscribe to Slate's Poetry Podcast on iTunes.

The world was at its end again.
The houses all wore hats of fire.
We couldn’t find each other.

Wolves pawed clouds,
crows tunneled. Last grabbed objects,
instantly regretted, dropped,

though one child still clutched a feather
and a few things stayed unreasonably in place—
gravestones, oranges, beds.

Most of us tongued seeds, loved strangers.
Why not? Soon it would be noon forever.
We couldn’t find each other.

The great toleration was finished.
The world rushed into feather, then wind.

Terri Witek's most recent book of poems is Exit Island. She holds the Sullivan Chair in creative writing at Stetson University.

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