In New Cities We Run Into No One

By ROSEBUD BEN-ONI 

& no one believes the future is horses falling
beneath ten thousand satellites & ten thousand
tombs & who in the new
cities will say through
horses of fire & phosphorous drain
that we could make the journey alone
a temple?

Why lead such horses to your graves,
when the new cities are free
from anticyclone & acid rain,

a place
without derecho & light
pillars igniting
narrow bays—

the future four legs of ice & dust
shrinking
all burned fields
& barren terrain.

Would you then bear yourself strange,

fluke & freak,
without speech &
stranded in frazil
& grease—

would you believe the last great horse is
but a blood wedding of death
& grace?

 

[Purchase Issue 15 here.]

Rosebud Ben-Oni was a recipient of the 2014 NYFA Fellowship in Poetry and a 2013 CantoMundo Fellow. Her most recent collection of poems, turn around, BRXGHT XYXS, was selected as Agape Editions’ Editors’ Choice and will be published in 2019. She is an editorial advisor for VIDA: Women in Literary Arts. Her work appears or is forthcoming in Poetry, The American Poetry Review, Tin House, Black Warrior Review, TriQuarterly, Prairie Schooner, and Arts & Letters, among other publications.

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!

In New Cities We Run Into No One

Related Posts

Cloudy sunset over field.

Florida Poems

EDWARD SAMBRANO III
I will die in Portland on an overcast day, / The Willamette River mirroring clouds’ / Bleak forecast and strangers not forgetting— / Not this time—designer raincoats in their closets. / They will leave for work barely in time / To catch their railcars. It will happen / On a day like today.

Two Poems by Hendri Yulius Wijaya

HENDRI YULIUS WIJAYA
time and again his math teacher grounded him in the courtyard to lower / the level of his sissyness. the head sister chanted his name in prayer to thwart // him from playing too frequently with girl classmates. long before he’s enamored with the word / feminist