In the spirit of National Poetry Month, over the next few days Reads will be publishing five original poems, submitted by Stanford students and chosen by the Arts & Life editors. We hope you enjoy them as much as we do, and that you continue to read, write and celebrate poetry.
On Sundays light leaks through the window, drapes itself over her like a tallit & for a moment I forget how to say lineage holy I know you I know you On Sundays I bring my grandmother bread, cold cuts and fish from the local deli On Sundays grandmother is slowly unravelling & all I can think about is ways to feel full in a body On Sundays I count the obsessions in this house: wildflowers that come & go prehistoric glass menageries forgetting how to remember On Sundays my grandmother will ask the same question she asked yesterday On Sundays splitting open fish is a way of learning medicine On Sundays the fish cuts teeth and for a second I mistake it with the glass menagerie On Sundays the bones never looked so familiar On Sundays I too forget and ask the same question–