The Little Review (littlereview) wrote,
The Little Review

Poem for Tuesday

First Leaf
By Lia Purpura

That yellow
was a falling off,
a fall
for once I saw
it could
in its stillness
still be turned from,
it was not
yet ferocious,
its hold drew me,
was a shiny switchplate
in the otherwise dark,
rash, ongoing green,
a green so hungry
for light and air that
part gave up,
went alone,
chose to leave,
and by choosing
got seen.


From this week's New Yorker.

It has been a monumentally craptastic day and I have a splitting headache that I haven't even taken good drugs for because I don't think it's a migraine -- it's lower, much more sinus-specific, seems related to my clogged ears and nose, and is making me miserable. I felt too crappy to go break the fast (not that I fasted) at the home of the friend of my parents' where we usually go, which is a shame because I get to see some old family friends there with whom I otherwise really never get to chat.

Instead I celebrated with the traditional baconnaise and lobster wait, that was Jon Stewart, though I did have moments where things were so atrocious that I actually thought it might be preferable to be in synagogue where I could do my usual seething quietly and feeling more like an atheist than at any other place or time during the entire year. Here are some photos of the high point of my day hiking along the canal and on the billy goat trail, except that hiking over rocks with a dizzying headache might better be described as disorienting than exhilarating:


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