Today's poem is Disaster Ode by Michelle Lewis. It is read by Julia Bouwsma.
Disaster Ode
To praise what knows only dark
is to praise the seed before its soil-ceiling
canopies. The belly, too,
moon that parallels the moon,
tooth of a new bud that
curls from its green casing.
Quaint, too playful, word
I hated until you said
you loved my belly & so
I came to love it, then
the thing it meant, a laden curvature
that centered me.
Now when I praise the
belly, I praise the place you trace that
dips toward parts
we don't call by decent
names, praise the cave
that held its blood too long
until it fell from its own weight in
ruby strands. I praise my courage, too,
that knew enough to take
your hand and place it there.
Husk of sky that parallels the sky,
gray chaos mothering our
streets. Disaster
we hear someone say. So we
praise jolly & bless & kiss,
praise the rise & fall that
keeps the time we will return to.
Praise the belly,
thing that knows
only dark. It's how we praise
the dead we will become.