Yolanda: A Typhoon
By Sarah Gambito
How much our hands are God's
to be running fingers over braille cities.
We are this hand pushed through our womb.
Weeping with each other’s blood in our eyes.
I dreamed that I slept with the light on.
I was asleep in my mother’s bed because my father was out to sea
and my claim on him was to feel the frets of my death sure to come.
Sweet, small fishing rod. Ears of wind rushing through many jellied trees.
We were on this cardboard earth with its puffing volcanoes
miniature baseball players and horrible winds
scored by musician's hands.
Stand in the strong ear of this love.
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I had a pretty good day until the Phillies did not succeed in coming from behind to beat the Astros, which probably means the latter are going to win the World Series. I'm declaring that okay, though, because I learned from the Cubs in 2016 that I would so much rather be disappointed from some stupid sports competition and happy on election night than vice versa, and we did vote today -- last day of early voting in Maryland, almost no wait, not enough people younger than us at the polls, please get out there if you're eligible.
Other than a trip to the food store at the way home from voting (at my onetime elementary school turned community center where we had kids' birthday parties, so always fun to visit), it was a pretty quiet Thursday. I got some chores done, took a walk, caught up on Andor which has gotten really good, chatted on Zoom with my fannish friends, and we had veggie cheesesteaks for dinner in honor of the Phillies so that at least was nice. Speaking of Philly, from Longwood Gardens last weekend, here are some of the Bruce Munro light exhibits:
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