So many so small go on day and night
under your feet you barely notice.
A big bang sounds like someone in the upstairs apartment
knocking over their refrigerator, and you ask,
Why knock over your refrigerator?
while friends turn pale and head for the doorjambs.
No, no, it's just some guy
going ape-shit in his kitchen, you insist.
Maybe he's drunk. You're so good at making up explanations,
you miss the moments things shift
for real, red tulips beginning to wilt in their vase,
their lipstick mouths puckering like dowagers,
or the way a marriage curdles like milk left out too long.
You're standing on sand,
(you're always standing on sand,)
but its not the same sand as a wave ago,
everything has swept in and out,
regardless of whether you believe in death
who says, Alright, fine, don't believe in me,
or who doesn't say anything at all,
just goes about his death business,
loosening lovers arms from around each other's necks,
liberating teeth from their gums.
The yellow and brown crumpled gloves
of last year's fig leaves
lie abandoned in front of your house,
flaking detritus someone has to sweep up
and touch, someone has to notice and mourn.
Alison Luterman's Other Poems
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Comments about this poem (Earthquakes by Alison Luterman )
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
A Dream Within A Dream
Edgar Allan Poe
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(15 April 1931)
(24 January 1572 - 31 March 1631)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(30 December 1865 – 18 January 1936)
(28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
- Phenomenal Woman, Maya Angelou
- Still I Rise, Maya Angelou
- The Road Not Taken, Robert Frost
- After a Death , Tomas Tranströmer
- No Man Is An Island, John Donne
- If, Rudyard Kipling
- Daffodils, William Wordsworth
- A Dream Within A Dream, Edgar Allan Poe
- If You Forget Me, Pablo Neruda
- Death is Nothing at All, Henry Scott Holland