Flight 214 by Sally Bliumis-Dunn

View this email on a browser Forward to a friend June 5, 2014   Flight 214   Sally Bliumis-Dunn

The news is still falling in our kitchen like invisible rain as we eat the pink salmon, the lettuce, the mashed potatoes. Because now everything glistens. The candles, the soft folds of red napkins each in its place, as though it all were sacred— the rain must still be falling. Not me, not anyone I know. Earlier in the day, the terrible news lifted too easily, a cheap Mylar balloon cut loose—a tinny flash. Couldn’t even tell its color against the sky.            Copyright @ 2014 by Sally Bliumis-Dunn. Used with permission of the author. About This Poem   “This poem is about how tragic events enter our lives, the initial impulse to distance ourselves from them, and then how they permeate and linger. It was particularly difficult to admit relief at knowing that all those I knew were safe. Gratitude for the ordinary becomes extraordinarily heightened in such circumstances.” —Sally Bliumis-Dunn   Sally Bliumis-Dunn is the author of Second Skin (Wind Publications, 2010). She teaches at Manhattanville College and lives in Armonk, New York. Most Recent Book by Bliumis-Dunn   Second Skin (Wind Publications, 2010) “Living Room Altar” by Catherine Barnett “On Disappearing” by Major Jackson “The Hour and What Is Dead” by Li-Young Lee Poem-a-Day   Launched during National Poetry Month in 2006, Poem-a-Day features new and previously unpublished poems by contemporary poets on weekdays and classic poems on weekends. Thanks for being a part of the Academy of American Poets community. To learn about other programs, including National Poetry Month, Poem in Your Pocket Day, the annual Poets Forum, and more, visit Poets.org.   You are receiving this e-mail because you elected to subscribe to our mailing list. If you would like to unsubscribe, please click here.   © Academy of American Poets 75 Maiden Lane, Suite 901, New York, NY 10038