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.”
More from Shahé Mankerian ↓
Support + Stay Connected to OPO
If you’d like to support the show, Substack and Patreon members receive a copy of my book, For My Daughter, along with episodes from the audiobook.
Poetry shows us what we need. Thank you for being part of the experience.
