Poem | Good Friday Migraine

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Danielle Chapman discusses this poem with our critic, Anthony Domestico, on the extended segment of The Commonweal Podcast.

 

 

A bird, undeterred, tries to squeak
juice from April ice
as crocuses wince
behind black snow

though through the window
I wade into yellow
warmth as if into the aural form
vision has been tunneling toward—

tigered lemon flutes
trembling acetylene
and, past the nauseated pain,
Easter, blistering.

Published in the March 23, 2018 issue: 
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Danielle Chapman is a poet and essayist. Her collection of poems, Delinquent Palaces, was published by Northwestern University Press in 2015. Her poems have appeared in the Atlantic and the New Yorker, and her essays can be found in the Oxford American and Poetry. She teaches literature and creative writing at Yale.

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