Our ancestors in the earth are not
Ashamed of us. The strong smell
Of dirt, the delirious rabbits, the
Clocks are all disappearing. A

Prehistoric gift acquires the smell
Of salt. I grasp onto winter's tail.
Some water plants are lying around.
Smell & taste, I have had good

Luck in love. The slippery roads,
The capricious numbers on a blazing
Road, meet me at the forest's edge
Where we can go with our legs

Lopped off, strangers to the clean
Teeth and tongue of outward happiness.


About this poem
"This poem is from a series of over 70 sonnets (and counting) that I started this past February. While the title might be misleading, I think that in the language of the poem, there is some joy to be had, so it's not all irony."
-Noelle Kocot

About Noelle Kocot
Noelle Kocot is the author of "Soul in Space" (Wave Books, 2013). She teaches at The New School and lives in New Jersey.

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The Academy of American Poets is a nonprofit, mission-driven organization, whose aim is to make poetry available to a wider audience. Email The Academy at poem-a-day[at]poets.org.


(c) 2015 Noelle Kocot. Originally published by the Academy of American Poets, www.poets.org. Distributed by King Features Syndicate