Thomas Dooley on

Published in Poem Of The Day

And there was evening, humid
with lightning, when my father
fell to the earth like summer hail,
scattered. I gathered

my mother, we threw in
a handful of pebbles. And

there was morning, bitterly.
There was evening news

bluing walls, violet morning
on thunderheads, and the evening

when morning
would never again light our bodies in bed.

Morning caravans, headlights,
evening. A long caravan of evenings. Then

there was only me, morning. Awake in a room
in a building vast with rooms. Everyone

evening. Everyone morning. And God
had finished all the work he had been doing-

babies, honeybees, spreadsheets, winter
mornings. I said,

I will not stop here, evening. I'll see you
in the morning.

About this poem
"In Genesis, the phrase 'and there was evening, and there was morning' is incanted after each day of creation. I looked at those markers in my own life, how the 'long caravan' of mornings and evenings has brought wild creation, but also sudden and altering loss. How can a body endure the events of change and still get up in the morning?"
-Thomas Dooley

About Thomas Dooley
Thomas Dooley is the author of "Trespass" (Harper Perennial, 2014). He is the founding artistic director of Emotive Fruition, a theater collective of actors and poets in New York. He lives in Brooklyn, N.Y.

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 Thomas Dooley. Originally published by the Academy of American Poets, www.poets.org. Distributed by King Features Syndicate




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