The Monday Poem is brought to you by Professor Kristin Bensen-Hause of the English Department. Enjoy!

The Letters Learn to Breathe Twice

When the danger of fire has passed,

the children (even when wanting to text)

form letters with pencils,

tracing gray skin around

the unsayable while geese honk ~

overhead oñ-oñ-oñ- in their ~ ~

wedge of funny adults. The children ~ ~ ~

try to be normal, though ~ ~

no one knows what normal is …

In nearby gardens, the unwanted

dandelion: Taraxacum officionale. A large

squash prepares for harvest, its S-shaped

stem with moisture bent.

Children braid languages & some

are praised for confidence but who

praises the garden for all that breath?

The cheerful mild constant anxiety

of your childhood turned

to writing, then meaning came

with its invincible glare—; the page

had borders but no limit—

& you loved letters then,

their breath allowed not

to decide as it curved between

skin-bearer & the being said—

The Monday Poem: ‘The Letters Learn to Breathe Twice’