Today the Pleasures by Danusha Laméris

a fat swath of sun falling against my arm as I open a box of two slim volumes of poems

Today the Pleasures

by Danusha Laméris

Today the pleasures are too numerous to name.
Walking over the bridge and up the drive
to get the mail, then setting down the packages
to open by the front door, a fat swath of sun
falling against my arm as I open a box
of two slim volumes of poems, then a box
with blue ink refills for my favorite pen,
one that glides so nicely across the pages
of my grief. All this, I think all this, and also
the broccoli soup I made with bone broth
from last month’s turkey, blended to a creamy green.
Yes, the world is falling down, death taking
a stroll down every street. And yes, it’s getting hotter
by the hour. And still, today the wind
has quieted and the dogs next door announce
their gods, who, so far, keep lifting the sun
and letting down (just enough) rain.

Blade by Blade (Copper Canyon Press, 2024). Reprinted with permission.