October 29—The Dow Closes Down 11118

By SUSAN BRIANTE

We want to remember
our dead, make an altar,
bring our daughter
to the photograph trace a chin
here, for good luck, palm
her grandmother’s hair,
she doesn’t know

who she is yet (trick
or treat?)
how can she dress up
like a lion, doctor, fish,
be stitches
in the middle of my book
sunset reflecting off windows

Texas will teach her
seasons: dried
leaves under the table,
new green on the treetops
a dirty car backfires
in the crosswalk, a nest
hangs from the porch light

fixture, I want to hold her
in the center,
cup her breath
in my hands, balance
her heart on my knees
the Dow grabs blindly,
knocks things off

 

 

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

October 29—The Dow Closes Down 11118

Related Posts

October 2021 Poetry Feature: Sasha Stiles

SASHA STILES
Are you ready for the future? / If you are, today is your day. And when tomorrow hits you like a ton of bricks, you’ll appreciate today even more. Because in reality, tomorrow is a line you walk towards, and now is a line you never see. But you just didn’t see it yet. Reflect.

Image of the book cover of The Morning Line, featuring a man wearing a hat.

September 2021 Poetry Feature: David Lehman’s The Morning Line

DAVID LEHMAN
You can pick horses on the basis of their names / and gloat when Justify wins racing’s Triple Crown / or when, in 1975, crowd favorite Ruffian, “queen / of the century,” goes undefeated until she breaks down / in a match race with Derby winner Foolish Pleasure.