Rereading ✨two poems✨ by Ada Limón

Hi, saying a soft, happy Monday goodnight! Tonight, I’m rereading two favorites from Bright Dead Things, THE CONDITIONAL and FIELD BLING by Ada Limón, our current Poet Laureate of the U.S., named by the Librarian of Congress in July 2022. And, 🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️ talking!!! about the lines I liked today and why I revisit these two over and over again.

Thank you for supporting me, and my work, all this time. 🖤

THE CONDITIONAL 

Say tomorrow doesn’t come.
Say the moon becomes an icy pit.
Say the sweet-gum tree is petrified.
Say the sun’s a foul black tire fire.
Say the owl’s eyes are pinpricks.
Say the raccoon’s a hot tar stain.
Say the shirt’s plastic ditch-litter.
Say the kitchen’s a cow’s corpse.
Say we never get to see it: bright
future, stuck like a bum star, never
coming close, never dazzling.
Say we never meet her. Never him.
Say we spend our last moments staring
at each other, hands knotted together,
clutching the dog, watching the sky burn.
Say, It doesn’t matter. Say, That would be
enough. Say you’d still want this: us alive,
right here, feeling lucky.

---

FIELD BLING

Nights when it's warm
and no one is watching,
I walk to the edge
of the road and stare
at all the fireflies.
I squint and pretend
they're hallucinations,
bright made-up waves
of the brain.
I call them,
field bling.
I call them,
fancy creepies.
It's been a long time
since I've wanted to die,
it makes me feel
like taking off
my skin suit
and seeing how
my light flies all
on its own, neon
and bouncy like a
wannabe star.

---

Sincerely, I’m sry for my spacey verbal breaks, repeated words and messed up during my readings a lot; I don’t want to overthink my flash audio posts. ✨✨

Colore