Shownotes
One Poem Only is a daily ritual: one poem, center stage, just for now.
Show & Tell
Shahé Mankerian
This poem was first published in Contemporary Verse 2, Summer 2024 (Vol. 47, No. 1)
To Lucille Clifton
José lifted a rabbit from a corroded cage
and said, “This is Jesús. We found him
sleeping among the dead daffodils.”
Elizabeth asked us to cover our ears
“Because Beethoven was deaf,” she said
as “Ode to Joy” squeaked on her violin.
I clapped the loudest because on the first
day of school Liz braided my shoelaces
with hers. Mrs. Honzay poked my forearm
with a pen, “Settle down,” she whispered.
Sweaty Mika wore his father’s space suit.
Selma uttered from her wobbly desk,
“He even smells like an alien.” When I stood
in front of the blackboard, nauseous,
with nothing fancy to share, I raised
my trembling hands shoulder high.
“I was born with twelve fingers,” I said,
“and I have the scars to prove it.”
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One Poem Only submissions are open.
This round, I’m looking for poems about what remains. What stays with us when we experience change? What survives? What do we yearn to carry forward? Send me the poem you wrote and want the world to hear. Also, if you’d like to read your own poem on the podcast, you can. Submit a clear audio file recorded in a quiet space—no perfect studio recording required. And yes, your poem can have been previously published in a literary magazine, in print, or on social media. Submissions close Thursday, October 29. I’ll respond by Wednesday, November 11. Whether I read your poem or you read it yourself, I’d love to hear what you have to share.
One Poem Only Submissions Form
