May 17—The Down Closes Up 10625

By SUSAN BRIANTE

Farid says he wants to be a family,
he adds, by which I mean I don’t want you to die.


Arizona gnaws at the constitution.

I want to tell him that since
I was a child I have dreamed
of feeling like this, by which I mean safe.
Instead we talk about the baby.
She will cry a lot the first days
her skin in clothes, the air,
darkness and light, touch and taste
will shock her to tears.

I just read that somewhere.

Outside, temperatures filibuster spring.
The Dow “eyes” jobs, uses
a variety of special characters,
while we find a hole in the birdfeeder,
count box tops for a water bottle,
enter contests for a green home.

Suzuki compares existence to wrenching a droplet of water from a stream.
As water falls
separated by wind and rocks,

we are separated from oneness, then we have feeling.

 

 

Susan Briante is the author of Pioneers in the Study of Motion, Utopia Minus, and the chapbook The Market Is a Parasite That Looks Like a Nest, part of an ongoing lyric investigation of the stock market.

Click here to purchase Issue 03

From the beginning, The Common has brought you transportive writing and exciting new voices. We are committed to supporting writers and maintaining free, unrestricted access to our website, but we can’t do it without you. Become an integral part of our global community of readers and writers by donating today. No amount is too small. Thank you!

May 17—The Down Closes Up 10625

Related Posts

Year of the Murder Hornet, by Tina Cane

October 2025 Poetry Feature: From DEAR DIANE: LETTERS FOR A REVOLUTIONARY

TINA CANE
I take that back Diane surely you conceived / of it all before any of it came to pass / mother daughter sister of the revolution / you had a knack for choosing the ground / for a potential battle you didn’t want to stumble / bloody out of Central Park to try to find help / there where the money is

beach

“During the Drought,” “Sestina, Mount Mitchill,” “Dragonflies”

LIZA KATZ DUNCAN
”The earth, as blue and green / as a child’s drawing of the earth— // is this what disaster looks like? My love, think / of the dragonflies, each migratory trip / spanning generations. Imagine // that kind of faith: to leave a place behind / knowing a part of you will find its way back, / instinct outweighing desire.

whale sculpture on white background

September 2025 Poetry Feature: Earth Water Fire Poems, a Conversation

LISA ASAGI
"We and the whales, / and everyone else, / sleep and wake in bodies / that have a bit of everything / that has ever lived. Forests, oceans, / horse shoe crabs, horses, / orange trees in countless of glasses of juice, / lichen that once grew / on the cliffsides of our ancestors, / deepseated rhizomes, and stars.