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| Uploaded: | 2019-09-16 |
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Nicole Sealey shares a love poem, dedicated to her husband.
Nicole Sealey:
http://nicolesealey.com/
https://twitter.com/nic_sealey
Poem: Object Permanence (2017) by Nicole Sealey
Read from Ordinary Beast: https://www.harpercollins.com/9780062688828/ordinary-beast/
Brought to you by Complexly, The Poetry Foundation, and poet Paige Lewis. Learn more: https://www.poetryfoundation.org/
11 issues of Poetry, subscribe today for $20: https://poetrymagazine.org/OursPoetica
Follow us elsewhere for the full Ours Poetica experience:
twitter.com/ourspoeticashow
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#poetry #ourspoetica #nicolesealey
Nicole Sealey:
http://nicolesealey.com/
https://twitter.com/nic_sealey
Poem: Object Permanence (2017) by Nicole Sealey
Read from Ordinary Beast: https://www.harpercollins.com/9780062688828/ordinary-beast/
Brought to you by Complexly, The Poetry Foundation, and poet Paige Lewis. Learn more: https://www.poetryfoundation.org/
11 issues of Poetry, subscribe today for $20: https://poetrymagazine.org/OursPoetica
Follow us elsewhere for the full Ours Poetica experience:
twitter.com/ourspoeticashow
instagram.com/ourspoeticashow
facebook.com/ourspoeticashow
#poetry #ourspoetica #nicolesealey
My name is Nicole Sealey and I'll be reading Object Permanence for John Murillo and this poem is a love poem to my husband so that's why I'll be reading it today.
object permanence
[for john]
We wake as if surprised the other is still there,
each petting the sheet to be sure.
How have we managed our way
to this bed--beholden to heat like dawn
indebted to light. Though we're not so self-
important as to think everything
has led to this, everything has led to this.
There's a name for the animal
love makes of us--named, I think,
like rain, for the sound it makes.
You are the animal after whom other animals
are named. Until there's none left to laugh,
days will start with the same startle
and end with caterpillars gorged on milkweed.
O, how we entertain the angels
with our brief animation. O,
how I'll miss you when we're dead.
object permanence
[for john]
We wake as if surprised the other is still there,
each petting the sheet to be sure.
How have we managed our way
to this bed--beholden to heat like dawn
indebted to light. Though we're not so self-
important as to think everything
has led to this, everything has led to this.
There's a name for the animal
love makes of us--named, I think,
like rain, for the sound it makes.
You are the animal after whom other animals
are named. Until there's none left to laugh,
days will start with the same startle
and end with caterpillars gorged on milkweed.
O, how we entertain the angels
with our brief animation. O,
how I'll miss you when we're dead.