letter to death ending with red umbrellas in a field by J. David
Associate poetry editor Kenley Alligood on today’s bonus poem: I am thrilled to have the honor of introducing poet (and fellow Julien Baker fan) J. David’s work. This piece shimmers with color and surprise at every line. With a voice that is assured and emphatic while remaining tender and, at times, almost whimsical, “Letter to Death...” is a poem I can’t stop thinking about.
letter to death ending with red umbrellas in a field
after Emily Pettit
you can call a yellow bird a yellow bird and mean
the night i stopped loving myself it rained popsicles.
you can say i caught you skipping moon-rocks
across the puddle-jump of my heart and mean
yellow birds scale trees as yellow birds do.
once, i felt nothing and the bright balloon above the sky
asked me to consider the source of all my unhappiness—
i still want to know the dispersal mechanics of a dandelion
and have conversations with hermit crabs
about the glad gadget that is the heart.
and sir, i don’t need to know why i’m here
i just want to know where the red umbrellas came from.
J. David is from Cleveland, Ohio and edits Flypaper Lit. They love Julien Baker.
