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Poetry month is here, and we are committed to delivering daily poems to your inbox throughout April. We hope they provide some comfort and food for thought at a difficult time.
We begin with Jane Hirshfield, among the most powerful current voices addressing the crises of climate and shared fate. “The Bowl,” a poem suddenly meaningful in new ways, speaks of accepting whatever the day brings us as sustenance, then accepting whatever the next day brings. It appears in Hirshfield’s new collection Ledger, a book calling us to honor our unbreakable connections to each other and to the earth these poems find fragile, fragrant, and unbounded.
The Bowl
If meat is put into the bowl, meat is eaten.
If rice is put into the bowl, it may be cooked.
If a shoe is put into the bowl, the leather is chewed and chewed over, a sentence that cannot be taken in or forgotten.
A day, if a day could feel, must feel like a bowl. Wars, loves, trucks, betrayals, kindness, it eats them.
Then the next day comes, spotless and hungry.
The bowl cannot be thrown away. It cannot be broken.
It is calm, uneclipsable, rindless, and, big though it seems, fits exactly in two human hands.
Hands with ten fingers, fifty-four bones, capacities strange to us almost past measure. Scented—as the curve of the bowl is— with cardamom, star anise, long pepper, cinnamon, hyssop.
Visit Knopf’s Instagram (@aaknopf) today, and all throughout April, to view poets reading from their work — our first Story, of Jane Hirshfield reading another poem from Ledger, is up now!
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