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About this Poem 

“I wrote this poem after one of my walks through Boston, my adoptive city. You can't fight melancholy, you can only join her as she listens to the trees, moved to singing by the rain.”
Pablo Medina

In Defense of Melancholy

At least once a week
I walk into the city of bricks
where the rubies grow

and the killers await
the coming of doves and cats.

I pass by the homes of butchers
and their knives sharpened by insomnia

to the river of black sails
and the torn-up sea and the teeth of dogs.

She waits for me in a narrow bed,
watching the rain
that gathers on the broken street

and the weak light of dusk
and the singing trees.
 

Copyright © 2015 by Pablo Medina. Originally published in Poem-a-Day on August 17, 2015, by the Academy of American Poets.

Copyright © 2015 by Pablo Medina. Originally published in Poem-a-Day on August 17, 2015, by the Academy of American Poets.

Pablo Medina

Pablo Medina

Pablo Medina is the author of The Island Kingdom (Hanging Loose Press, 2015). He teaches at Emerson College and lives in Boston, Massachusetts.

by this poet

poem

God likes to be played like a piano.
Dawn glows with sailors dancing in the eye of a storm
by the river of black water. These days
things make sense under the green and yellow
and brown sky of Granada and I wear a tie as penance
for the sins of my navel. The saints of the north
and the

2
poem
for Karen Bentivenga
Sometimes in the heat of the snow
you want to cry out

for pleasure or pain like a bell.
And you wind up holding each other,

listening to the in-between 
despite the abyss at the edge of the table. 

Hell. Mulgrew Miller plays like a big 
bad spider, hands on
poem
Let the aroma of need
waft across the river to New Jersey:

all the snow and hills,
a sky that moves and moves.

I saw a rose in the clouds,
I saw happiness on fire.