Poems by Meena Alexander

Autobiography

Question Time

June Air

 


Question Time

I remember the scarred spine

Of mountains the moon slips through,

Fox fire in a stump, bushes red with blisters,

Her question, a woman in a sweatshirt,

Hand raised in a crowded room-

What use is poetry?

Above us, lights flickered,

Something wrong with the wiring.

I turned and saw the moon whirl in water,

The Rockies struck with a mauve light,

Sea creatures cut into sky foliage.

In the shadow of a shrub once you and I

Brushed lips and thighs,

Dreamt of a past that frees its prisoners.

Standing apart I looked at her and said-

We have poetry

So we do not die of history.

I had no idea what I meant.

From BIRTHPLACE WITH BURIED STONES
(Triquarterly Books / Northwestern University Press, 2013)


 

 

 

 

 

 
         
    Poetry Center Readings:
   

Spring 2014