A poem a day in April from Rutgers English PhD students and friends.

Saturday, April 13, 2013


Prickle in the throat,
open magnolia.
Internet slideshow
of a sun-drenched apartment,
your old school chum's
assistant professorship.
The pressure changes:
somebody vomiting,
somebody crying,
open a bottle, a window.
Pour in the magnolia
& stir, & watch
until everything settles.
Listen for traffic.
A Claritin, a draught
of water, now swallow.

Someone said the spring
smells like semen,
but I never noticed.

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