Joy Priest
say here & it sound
like a heel                      shoved

 
down a throat.
a horse hitched.                        guttural.

 
tough meat yanked,
bones crushed by                                        teeth

 
minted in gold. sound
like a sixth               generation

 
curse when it fly
out your mouth                      little god.

 
a bolt cracking 'cross
field laid flat beneath                          indigo

 
clouds. you say come back
heel & you                     mean

 
your daddy too. mean
we are so                                            ancient.

 
how long we done
lived—                                                                us-folk,
 
for whom heaven
is live                           broadcast.

 
our down-at-the-heel
place. filthy &                                barefoot.

 
double-wide on stilts.
a body to be                                                            burned

 
if need be, 'cause
already. already       no fear

 
of fire in you.
of sharp gill or                                    heavy

 
hand laid on your cheek.
you've                                                                        caught

 
on early, turning—
through                    cylinders

 
of nature—root,
rainfall to praise.                            making

 
rubber tire, rusted
scrap into                                                                playground.

 
sun-bleached boats,
fish nets are                  birds

 
in your hand,
there on the divine                        screen

 
of poverty. ingenuity,
beggar's                                                                        alchemy:

 
what we got into
what we ain't                meant

 
to have. we's
who the                                                    earth

 
is for, you
squeak. &                                                                you sing

 
two kinds of people:
your daddy &            you:

 
those who stay
& those who                                    escape

 
                                                                                                the heel.
from the book HORSEPOWER/ University of Pittsburgh Press
READ ABOUT TODAY'S POEM
Share Share
Tweet Tweet
Forward Forward
"Maine poet, activist and mentor Lee Sharkey dies at age 75" 

"Sharkey, who lived in Portland after spending many years in central Maine, had wide influence across the literary community as co-founder of the Maine Writers and Publishers Alliance, co-editor of the influential Maine-based Beloit Poetry Journal and educator at the University of Maine at Farmington, where among other things she founded the Women’s Studies Program."

viaPORTLAND PRESS HERALD
READ ALL TODAY'S HEADLINES
Image of a human figure, outlined in stars, emerging from a blue-black sky
Poetry Daily stands with the Black community. 
We oppose racism, oppression, and police brutality.
We will continue to amplify diverse voices in the poetry world.
Black Lives Matter.
Resources for Supporting and Uplifting the Black Community
Cover of Brian Teare's book, Companion Grasses
What Sparks Poetry:
Brian Teare on "Star Thistle"

"What is a weed in one cultural context is medicine or food in another; what is invasive in one ecosystem is native to another; and plants, like matter, as William James would wisely say, have no ideals. What I brought to the Star Thistle was what Adam Phillips in his marvelous book Darwin’s Worms would call the problem of grieving in a secular age."
READ THIS WEEK'S ISSUE
You have received this email because you submitted your email address at www.poems.com
If you would like to unsubscribe please click here.

© 2020 Poetry Daily, Poetry Daily, MS 3E4, 4400 University Dr., Fairfax, VA 22030

Design by the Binding Agency