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July 15, 2010The Arsenal Building, Central ParkNew York, NYFrom the Academy Audio Archive

About a Field

Idra Novey

 

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Idra Novey

by this poet

poem
After Mahmoud Darwish
And they searched her voice, heard the lurch of a bus into the deep muck of a field.

And they searched the bus, saw the guts of its vinyl seats.

And they searched the guts, smelled the steel springs rusting.

And they searched the rust, tasted nothing but
poem

Dear C, I dropped

your sentence in hot water.
I talked to the boil. I said Here

is my thumb for you to burn.

Here is the soft heart
of my hand and my arm and

the nape of my wreck.

I said vapor, just take me.
I’m done burning

poem

 

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